The great Ealdorman Aelfric’s ebon war steed Midnight galloped thunderously down the long line of tents. The stallion was heading directly towards the center of the encampment, carrying its prominent rider, followed by several others in the Ealdorman’s retinue. Bystanders were careful to give the hurrying contingent a wide berth, backing out of their pathway well before the horses reached them.
Aelfric was riding farther away from the westward-most line of defensive encampment preparations, which were being prepared at pressing haste by engineers and many thousands of soldiers and non-combatants.
Aelfric’s authority was not one to be questioned anywhere within the huge encampment. King Alcuin’s greatest general, designated as the sovereign’s majordomo, he had directly received the supreme command of the gathering Saxan forces from the king himself.
The day’s inspection had been thorough, and deemed satisfactory, as Aelfric and his entourage completed their survey of the western length of the encampment. The outer defenses were being put into place at a relentless pace, to ensure its full completion well before the arrival of the enemy forces. Virtually every tool or weapon that could find a good use was being employed in the massive amalgamation of digging and ground removal.
Time was no luxury. If anything, it was a baleful adversary.
Scouts ranging beyond the outlying sentry posts had indicated that the vanguard of a staggeringly vast enemy force was finally approaching the plains. The marching juggernaut was estimated to be only a few scant days away.
The invasion army had paused for some time within the borders of Ehrengard, the delay presumably for acclimating and resting the steeds that had traveled far distances to join the diverse force. Now that the enormous invasion force was on the move again, it was certain that the time of battle was drawing very close.
Aelfric was determined to see that the enemy would find a Saxan wall resolutely facing them when they arrived. It was all the culmination of a few months of great anxiety, thorough preparation, and a very rapid response.
The very first whispers of an impending war had come from Saxan agents traveling deep within Ehrengard’s cities and ports. They had lingered long after trade had been formally cut off between Saxany and Ehrengard, declared by the Sacred Emperor after the final rejection of the Unifier’s overtures to King Alcuin.
Supplies and foodstuffs had begun pouring into Ehrengard just a few months after. The arrival of numerous ships from Avanor, loaded with horses, siege equipment, knights, and other martial elements heralded the existence of dark intentions by the Unifier towards Ehrengard’s eastern neighbor.
The mustering of large forces within Ehrengard had also been initiated during that time. Summons to military service had been dispatched from the Sacred Emperor himself, to nobles everywhere across the lands. Ehrengard’s forces had soon begun to assemble in great numbers close to Esenshild, a large city located not far from Saxany’s westernmost borders.
The levies of their great princes and war-like bishops had streamed in right before the eyes of Saxany’s diligent spies. The Saxans had quickly perceived that they were not gathering to be placed upon ships, but were massing near to one singular road that was ideal for the movement of a great army; a road that led directly east towards Saxany.
The signs were obvious, and the interpretations undeniable, but at least the warnings had been long in coming.
Trade had been declining between Ehrengard and Saxany ever since the rise of the Unifier. It had come as no surprise to the wiser Ealdormen such as Aelfric, and the Counts of Saxany, when it had dried up completely at the firm dictate of the Sacred Emperor. The Saxan leaders had adroitly anticipated what was to come, and in their foresight had sent more spies west before the borders between the two lands were all but sealed.
Those spies had taken careful account of everything that they saw. Some periodically returned with extensive updates, traversing dangerous and well-patrolled border regions to bring their highly valuable messages back.
Countless amounts of grain, salted meat, wine and ale barrels, and masses of livestock had been gathered in the eastern territories of Ehrengard, as well as innumerable wagons, carts, and pack animals.
Some stories brought back by the spies told of incredible piles of grain that were so large that they resembled small hills. The surfaces of these ‘hills’ were even said to sprout a covering of new growths, only to have their surfaces skimmed to reveal freshly kept grains harbored just underneath.
The hills of grain, and every other thing being gathered in immense quantity, were all acute, unmistakable signs of preparations for an invasion.
It had soon become clear to the Saxan leaders that the enormous buildup had not been intended to be a secret either, as emissaries of both Ehrengard and the Unifier had arrived in Saxany for a last audience with the King. Aelfric and a couple of the great Counts happened to be in Aixen when that momentous event had occurred. It happened at a time when many councils were being held in Aixen, in regard to the growing mass of storm clouds within Ehrengard.
As Aelfric thought back to that decisive day, he could still remember the look of utter, incredulous shock splayed upon the emissaries’ faces, when King Alcuin had firmly refused the mandate to pledge Saxany’s loyalty, or more accurately its submission, to the Unifier.
That moment was forever emblazoned in Aelfric’s mind, as that very instant might very well have sounded the end of their proud and free kingdom.
The staunch rejection had taken place right within the King’s great reception hall at Aixen. The incensed emissaries dispatched by the Unifier, from Avanor and Ehrengard, had then told King Alcuin that war was unavoidable. They had boasted that Saxany would be conquered and occupied by the Unifier in due time, and that King Alcuin would not stand in the way of the prosperity and order that was being guided out of Avanor.
The emissaries had been unceremoniously escorted out of the hall, whisked away brusquely by the King’s royal houseguard. Aelfric had taken a little pleasure in the emissaries’ rough treatment, as they had entered so haughtily, and with such ultimate ill-intent towards everything that Saxany was.
For once in his life, Aelfric was not bothered by such a stark violation of decorum. It had been about all that Aelfric could do to refrain from drawing his own blade and striking at the arrogant emissaries.
Word had then been sent quickly of the incident and the King’s response, by both airborne and ground steeds, to all parts of the Saxan Kingdom. Parchments bearing the seals of Ealdormen and Counts came back to Aixen with great alacrity, bearing their various responses.
The great Ealdormen and Counts of the land had been unanimous in their support of the King, as had the Gitawan, the great council serving Alcuin.
All seven of the kingdom’s Ealdormen and its four great Counts had swiftly pledged their unequivocal support. They had then turned to the immediate tasks facing them, to begin the enormous and extensive summons that would be required to prepare for the expected response from the Unifier.
Hill-top beacons were lit, while innumerable couriers traversed paths and roads all throughout the kingdom. It was to be a momentous time for the most ancient of obligations, a calling out of all the lands’ able-bodied males to share in a collective defense of the kingdom itself.
The mustering of invasion forces to the west had also accelerated. The surge of the massing had come so fast that it was clear that the Unifier was prepared for, and probably had anticipated, King Alcuin’s response.
Ehrengard had then sealed off the border region, even to the most daring and adventurous of Saxany’s hardy spies. Sky patrols, mounted patrols, and teeming numbers of warriors on foot had clamped down on all traffic between Saxany and Ehrengard, and many courageous spies had lost their lives in attempts to get final word out of Ehrengard.
Before all word had been shut off completely, a dire and portentous tiding had arrived in Saxany. Though ominous, the word had been fortuitous, as it allowed the Saxans to perceive the full scope of what was facing them. One of the last spies to make it out of Ehrengard had reported the arrival of an enormous fleet that hailed from neither Avanor nor Ehrengard. The foreign fleet had included many huge, three-masted ships, of a size virtually incomprehensible to a Saxan.
The vessels carried along with them a multitudinous array of unusual foreigners, horses, and even a horde of strange, hump-backed beasts. They were rumored to have come from far to the north, and their presence in addition to the building forces from Avanor and Ehrengard took the threat facing Saxany to an unprecedented level.
The final word concerning the third mass of enemy forces ensured that the Unifier was not hesitating to summon everything that could be brought to bear upon the western border areas of the Saxan Kingdom. Every ounce of strength had to be applied in defense if the Saxan Kingdom was to have any hope of stopping the titanic invasion.
Everything was converging towards a final resolution, as the powerful, massive forces of the enemy trod towards the Saxan encampments out on the Plains of Aethelney.
Flanked by several elite warriors of his household guard, Aelfric turned Midnight aside and cut between a group of bell-shaped tents. The stallion cantered towards a large, pavilion-sized structure that had been erected near the center of the cluster.
Bringing the war horse to an abrupt halt, Aelfric swiveled and jumped down to the ground with a smoothness and agility that belied his age. Though his years said that he should have been beyond his physical prime, he still held onto his vitality with a tenacious grasp.
Aelfric strode towards the great tent without waiting for his immediate companions to dismount and catch up to him. His mind was fixated upon the priorities immediately facing him, no easy task at the apex of such a vast war campaign.
Inside the tent were several familiar figures, many of whom were reassuring presences, quite welcome sights to his eyes. One individual to the left, though, immediately provoked a sense of annoyance, though the conceited man would undeniably serve an important part in the overall Saxan strategy. All the figures nodded respectfully at Aelfric’s entrance, and he acknowledged them with a nod.
“Godric, I see that you have arrived as well,” Aelfric stated rather brusquely, to the man standing to his left. “I was not sure whether you got our message, for our courier reported that he was unable to gain a direct audience at your fortress.”
Though the words were polite, the tone was unmistakably accusing. Aelfric stifled his anger as best as he could. There was no time for pretensions, even though Aelfric expected Godric to suspend his usual arrogance in the face of the deadly wave sweeping towards all of them.
The man being addressed inclined his head. About an inch taller than Aelfric, but more slender of girth, Godric put forth a regal posture about himself, even though he held no throne. His cold, calculating eyes never appeared to look at a person directly, and his small mouth seemed forever set in tension.
Aelfric neither liked Godric nor wanted to have to depend upon him in any way. Godric was beholden to nobody, and the detached weighing of interests would seem to favor the greater strength and wealth of the western lands. Despite the inner misgivings that Aelfric felt, it was undeniable that Godric occupied a most important position in relation to Saxany’s current situation.
A substantial fortress belonging to Godric guarded the territory to the immediate south of where the narrow passage of land from Ehrengard to Saxany opened out onto the Plains of Aethelney.
Godric had always enjoyed engaging in solid trade with both Saxany and its neighbor, Ehrengard, a benefit that still continued as his lands were alloidal. A few small farming villages and a smattering of homesteads existed within his free-held land, which was not under the direct authority of either kingdom.
The trade with Saxany was still dangerous for Godric to undertake, as the Saxan lands were currently being barred from transacting commerce with anyone who did not wish to be deemed an enemy of the Unifier.
That Godric still traded with Saxany was the very source of Aelfric’s lingering hopes. Perhaps Godric would honor the kingdom that had made his land holding possible.
There was also a certain irony to all of it, one that Aelfric had not missed in the least. As Godric had increased his trade with Ehrengard, he had kept the trade with Saxany more discreet. The irony was simply that Ehrengard had once been an outright enemy to the specific King who had first bestowed the lands that Godric now occupied.
Godric’s lands, as Aelfric knew, hailed back to a heroic and honorable lord of the Fourth Era of Ave’s history, Conrad the Ironheart. Conrad the Ironheart had rebelled in those days against the unstable, continuously agitating nobility of Ehrengard. It had all transpired during an age when the lands of Saxany were two separate kingdoms. Fleeing eastward, Conrad had sought refuge, beseeching the ruler of the former southern and eastern kingdom, Clovis II.
Not only refuge had been granted, but lands with nominal suzerainty had been given over to him. They were part of the greater buffer zones on the western edge of the southern kingdom, located just to the south of the primary Western Marches. The dominion over that land had evolved into a freehold by the time that the two realms had been united into the Kingdom of Saxany.
Godric, however, was not of the line of Conrad the Ironheart. He had been the most senior among the household warriors of the last direct descendent of Conrad’s line, a man named Pepin. He had claimed to have been given the inheritance by Pepin, though no written charter had ever been produced to confirm the claim. Strengthening Godric’s position, most of the prominent warriors surrounding Pepin had supported his assertion.
King Alcuin, out of a strong-held belief in honor, had taken Godric at his word. Even so, the circumstances of Pepin’s death had been shrouded in dark rumors, a point that had never faded out of Aelfric’s mind or suspicions.
It was a point driven further home within Aelfric when Godric had subsequently purged a small number of Pepin’s household warriors. Aelfric had regarded all of the purged warriors to be good and decent men, and the purge had left a bitter, black taste in Aelfric’s mouth; and a potent, lasting suspicion.
Yet it was not Aelfric’s place to question his king, no matter what the thoughts were that went through his own mind. Those thoughts had never seemed to ebb, though, and were brought back to the forefront whenever Aelfric looked upon the darting, shifting gaze of Godric.
“Yes, Ealdorman Aelfric. I received your request. I could see that my presence here was of some importance to you. I came with haste, as we all know that there is little time to spare,” Godric replied politely, though his offered smile held little warmth in it.
Aelfric held back his first verbal inclinations, his jaw tightening for a moment as he maintained his composure. The snide attitude wafting off of Godric was more than irritating to the Saxan Ealdorman.
“Good, then we can all speak together, immediately, as you are right, Godric, there is very little time to spare,” Aelfric said tersely. He looked gravely towards the others gathered around him, regarding their stern faces for a moment. “The Unifier comes straight at us. He could not be more direct, or confident in His approach. He intends to be as a great hawk diving onto its prey. From everything that we have heard and come to know, the enemy means to break us through the use of brute, overwhelming strength.
“Ealdorman Morcar has placed a force under one of his most trusted senior thanes, Aethelstan, to ward the mountainous forests to the northwest of the corridor of land between Saxany and Ehrengard. Only a fool leaves any possible path undefended, and that route is very inviting to a clever enemy leader. Indeed, there are some new reports that a second force has detached from the invader’s main body and is headed precisely that way. Ealdorman Morcar’s decision seems to be very wise, and full of foresight.
“To the southwest, we seek the additional help of Godric for supplies, for possible refuge, and to keep something out there that the enemy will have to think about.”
Aelfric then turned to look squarely at Godric, endeavoring to hold his eyes, though such was an impossibility with Godric’s constantly shifting gaze. The unsettling man blinked more than anyone that Aelfric had ever known.
“Godric, I ask for none of your men, for it is Saxany alone that is being threatened by this invasion. King Alcuin does not wish to try to compel you to come openly into the war, especially as you are one of the first lying in the invader’s direct path. We ask only that you honor your lands’ long friendship with our Kingdom, and at the least remain neutral in this coming fight.”
Aelfric then paused for a moment, to see whether or not Godric would try to make some sort of gesture. His eyes carefully scanned the other’s face for some type of indication as to his disposition, coming up quite empty amidst Godric’s stony expression.
“As it is, Godric, your fortress and your land are still under threat from the Unifier… that is, if you wish to remain free and the lord of your lands. We can ill afford any shifts in loyalty… such that you might come out openly on the side of the Unifier,” Aelfric then said firmly, bringing his greatest concern out into the open.
He waited for the words to sink in to Godric and all of those assembled within the tent.
A fire welled up swiftly in Godric. A scowl crossed his face, and his dark eyes blackened further in anger. When he spoke, his voice was one of barely suppressed indignation. “You mean to question my loyalty? Our land has always been a loyal friend to yours, ever since Conrad the Ironheart, and your nobles have always profited from our friendship. Why should I be different in a time of struggle? Do you have reason to think that it would change now, just because there is a different bloodline ruling over the land bequeathed by Clovis II? Remember that my family has always served the line that received this grant of land from your King Clovis ages ago. Make no mistake, Aelfric, we have been there ever since that day.”
“As a man of honor, a certain degree of loyalty cannot change, at least as far as remaining neutral and not becoming hostile to us,” Aelfric replied rigidly, his hardened gaze straining to hold the other’s eyes as he aimed to make his point patently clear. “I tell you again, I do not ask you to fight, Godric, but we must never mistake your intentions. You must give us assurances that you will keep your fighting men inside of your fortress. Do not let them emerge in formation for any reason during the coming battle. If they do, the honor of your land is forfeit, and if we emerge from the doom that the Unifier intends, then, by the All-Father, I will hold you to account myself.”
“Your intent is clear. You disregard my word,” Godric gritted angrily, his teeth clenched tightly in his rising ire. “King Alcuin would not question our honor.”
“And I will not, if your men remain behind the walls,” Aelfric iterated doggedly, inviting no further argument. “Once this fight is over, I shall hope to apologize for any offense that I have given you, and to share the King’s full faith in you. As it is, I am the senior commander of this great army gathering for the defense of our homelands, and I can ill afford to take any chances with the coming war. Our position must be made clear.”
“Then I look forward to your apology, for you judge me wrongly,” Godric said spitefully.
“I shall look forward to delivering it,” Aelfric returned without a moment’s hesitation. Inside, he was more than willing to render an apology, with absolutely no misgivings, if Godric was something other than what Aelfric’s instincts loudly proclaimed him to be. “I now bid you well, and wish you a safe return back to your land. I shall make sure that you are informed of our movements, to the best of my ability. See that you take stock of foodstuffs and goods, for we may have much need of trade with you. I assure you that you shall be well compensated for any supplies needed. Even should you ask an excess, there shall be no hard feelings during this time of risk and emergency.”
Godric did not reply, his wavering eyes drawing as near as possible to locking in a hardened stare with Aelfric. The tension was palpable, thickening considerably in the air within the tent, as Godric was unable to match the steady, calm look of Aelfric’s own eyes.
With a curt bow, the other turned and stormed out of the tent. His leather boots drove heavily into the ground with each step, as if to accent his great displeasure with Aelfric.
Aelfric waited a few moments, and then slowly turned his attention back to the throng gathered around him in the tent. Now clad in cloaks and tunics, they would all soon be donning iron helms and coats of mail for the coming fight. Scarred veteran and fiery youth alike, they would all have one common, numerous, and mighty enemy.
Some among the Saxans gathered knew the use of siege engines, and others were experts in cavalry tactics. Others were well-versed in their knowledge of infantry, and there were a couple of men present especially skilled in the use of sky-steeds.
Aelfric was under no illusions. It would require all of them at their best, in order to have any chance of protecting the Plains of Athelney; the western gateway into the Saxan lands.
A Saxan army had never before, in the entire history of the kingdom, or the two that had preceded it, mustered in such power and numbers. The duress of the circumstances had never been greater.
Some good fortune was with the Saxans, in that most of the primary force had arrived safely, and was already in place. At the least, and it was no small matter, the Saxans were no longer facing the danger of having themselves caught unprepared before a full gathering and deployment could take place.
The lines of age were now creasing Aelfric’s face with greater prominence and frequency. It surprised him little, especially in the midst of strenuous times such as he was now facing.
He slowly ran his right hand through his gray streaked, long hair, pulling it back from his face. The locks were beginning to thin, and his hairline was sitting a little higher up on his forehead. As much as he set his mind against the ravages of age, there was only so much that he could do.
His aching back and knees betrayed what had once been an exceptionally strong, and nearly indefatigable, body. Still able to wield his blade with considerable force and ample skill, he was certainly far from being an invalid, but he knew that he could not sustain his energies as capably as he had in the past.
The thoughts, at one time, would have been enough to depress his spirits, were it not for one lingering realization.
One aspect about him had gotten stronger and sharper with the years. It was an attribute that was far more valuable to those around him than the presence of another thousand soldiers would have been.
That attribute was the quality of his mind.
A growing reservoir of experience and wisdom to draw from, his mind was an asset that he never would have fully appreciated in his younger days. It was the one part of him that became more valuable, as long as he allowed it, with each passing year. It was a weapon that he would now have to draw upon mightily in the face of the unholy storm coming down upon all of them.
Monks had taught him to read as a youth, on the resolute request of his father, the former Ealdorman of the Wesvald, Cynegils. It was a skill that brought ever more rewards throughout the years.
Since he had learned the immensely valuable skill, Aelfric had pored over many of the parchments that were assiduously stored and cared for within the monasteries of his home province. The rich histories and insights of past warriors, learned clerics, and even kings of long ago had been opened up to him. It had never ceased to amaze Aelfric how many situations and dire challenges in those ancient ages closely reflected those of his own time.
The monastery at Jafarne possessed one of the most prized libraries in any of the kingdoms. The preeminence in its holdings was not a lightly held status.
Among monasteries, there was a constant flow of requests for loans of books and codices, mostly so that the borrowed works could be copied before they were returned.
Works of great prestige brought grand renown to the possessing library, and conflicts sometimes erupted as monks went to incredible lengths to get their hands on such works. Finding a rare, desirable work was not unlike finding a new vein of silver to mine.
Abbots and bishops alike scoured the lands both home and abroad thoroughly for particularly special works, and neighboring monasteries often quarreled over the status of works still not returned between them. Many a book carried its own inscription conveying a staunch admonishment for the reader to return it promptly when finished. Quite often such admonishments took on the tone of a curse.
A great library resulted in a population of monks of high erudition, including the large numbers of visiting monks that such a site attracted. Spending time at Jafarne had resulted in a wealth of opportunity for Aelfric to engage in many lengthy discussions with some of the most learned monks in the land. Those times had enhanced and added to the experiences and lessons learned in the other aspects of his life.
There had even been an opportunity to engage in dialogue with Abelard the Venerable, regarded as one of Ave’s greatest minds. The esteemed scholar had been visiting the fabled monastery at Jafarne just seven winters prior. It had been an influential encounter, for in that one day Aelfric had learned to appreciate the ability to forcefully consider, and effectively argue, both sides of any given topic.
It was an art that converted very well to war planning, and the conception of a campaign. The method now helped him immeasurably, to wisely consider all the possibilities inherent with the preparations, to choose the courses that would best confront the coming invasion. That one day, and singular lesson, had been a remarkable treasure that added greatly to Aelfric’s accumulation of knowledge gained throughout the years.
Although there was no way of foretelling what was to come, he found himself relieved that he had endured the oft-times arduous task of learning. Most warriors discounted the importance of letters and erudition, but Aelfric had known from an early age that he had been patiently sharpening a new type of blade, on a distinct type of whetstone. Every experience, whether a day spent at one of the monasteries or within his hall, or traveling through Saxan lands, became a new part of that growth and effort.
It was now a time to apply everything contained within him, in a way that was much greater than anything that he ever had need of doing before.
The levy summons had gone very well, far more smoothly than Aelfric had anticipated. The army would also be very well supplied for several weeks to come.
The Saxans were now in a prime position to offer battle, at a strength that Aelfric knew would be unexpected by the enemy.
“My brothers in arms, what can we expect?” Aelfric queried the gathered thanes, counts, and other leaders rhetorically. “This is no regular force that comes at us. Ehrengard, Avanor, and lands yet unknown are marching against us. The borders have become so dangerous that very little word reaches us, but if my guesses are right, we will fight against many methods and strategies of war.”
“Methods?” one of the thanes near to Aelfric asked, echoing the quizzical looks appearing on the surrounding faces. “What can we know other than what kinds of armies gather against us?”
“We have heard word of unusual ships… very large ships from a faraway land. Men shrouded. Men with darker skins. Men of a different faith. Great numbers of strange beasts, with large humps on their backs. I can only believe that they come from the far north… from the Sun Lands, or lands held by a similar people. I only know what I have learned of some accounts that have been taken of such people and written down… These records cannot tell us everything, but they can still warn us of some things that may come… that is, if we are wise to what is available to us,” Aelfric stated, letting the words sink in to the ears of the attentive men. He then added, “And what is available to us can give us some insight into all the elements arrayed against our lands.”
He then proceeded to comment at length regarding his carefully read accounts of distant wars in former times, taken from the histories fastidiously guarded in the libraries, and reproduced painstakingly in the monastery scriptoriums.
Aelfric had read the main chronicle of the conquest of Norengal, as well as a few accounts concerning other battles within that large Avanoran campaign.
A copy of a treatise on military theory and strategy, written by a great emperor of Theonia, had also been found in the monks’ library at Jafarne. It had referred to many battles in the northern Sun Lands, regions that had seen the constant ebb and flow of great wars all throughout the long ages.
There had also been more than one biography of powerful nobles who had resided in Ehrengard, the vanity of their princely families resulting in the preservation of many great feats of battles, and the details of extensive military campaigns.
The lives of the religious saints were also not without some choice pieces of information, which could be gleaned by the perceptive reader. Often intended to convey a religious meaning, a military lesson could be gathered by correlating the many clues left in the nominally spiritual writings.
Collectively, the various writings represented a witness to the natures of the various forces that were now converging upon the Saxan lands. They were a look through the eyes of those who had lived and experienced the wars and cultures of the coming invaders. The value of those insights, as Aelfric knew very well, was priceless.
“Lands of the far north, such as the Sun Lands, are said to contain warriors that can shoot arrows from the back of a horse… when the horse is in a gallop… Their horses are said to be very swift, and they swirl about their enemy and seek to wear down a warrior’s resolve.
“There are also accounts from northern lands that great drums of war are used in battle… and that their warriors are very fanatical. If we face such an army, all of us will be facing such warriors for the first time. This is exactly why the Unifier would hurl such an army against us,” Aelfric continued, his words uttered deliberately slower so that they could impress more fully upon the minds of the men around him.
“Then the shield wall must hold, and remain firm,” another thane commented to Aelfric’s left.
The man was one of Aelfric’s own thanes, a young and likeable man named Leofwine. It was his first major campaign, having come of age just a year prior, and into his inheritance only a couple of months after that.
Leofwine’s eyes sparkled with a brash youthfulness, as he iterated confidently, “If they mean to frighten men with that which is unknown, then we must be steadfast.”
“The shield wall must not lose heart. Those on the shield wall must not break ranks, no matter how strange or different the sights,” Aelfric stated firmly. “If the enemy is close enough to loose arrows, or hurl javelins, then they will be close enough for us to reach with arrow or javelin.”
“And Avanor?” still another thane queried, one with many more years on him than Leofwine. His name Wermund, the thane came from the lands of the Ealdorman Oslac in Mittevald. “Will they seek to fight in such a way? Horsemen shooting arrows from a gallop?”
“No. They will come riding upon the strongest of steeds on the battlefield, and clad in the heaviest armor that we have known. They will use great numbers of archers… and they will use the crossbow. Their fight will not be one to tire us. They will seek to bludgeon us. They will look to open holes in our shield wall for their horsemen to penetrate,” Aelfric related somberly. “They have great discipline, and will be fierce opponents.
“The Avanorans are cunning too, and may try to loosen our shield wall by getting our own men to make an opening for them… to make it appear that they are falling back, to lure our men to break ranks in the hopes of a rout. This tactic has been written of, and has been used to great effect before. No man should fall prey to this, no matter how enticing the moment appears. We must make this very clear to all men on the front line of the wall. The entire battle’s outcome may rest upon how disciplined we can remain.”
“Then it is the shield wall that must be held, at all cost,” the older thane Wermund said resolutely, echoing Leofwine. “And of Ehrengard? What unknown means might they bring?”
“Ehrengard we know most of all. Our brethren in the Western Marches have much experience fighting them. They will not all be of a common purpose. The leaders of Ehrengard have the least unity of any that come against us. As many of you know, they constantly war within themselves, among their princes, nobles, and bishops… and this may be to our advantage.”
“And the Halmlander? Will they be among them?” Wermund asked. There was a discernable hesitancy and an edge to his voice, accompanying the collective tension that swelled in the room at the open mention of the murderous, fearsome Halmlander from Ehrengard. The vile mercenary company’s fame was widespread, and for a very bloody reason.
Aelfric’s own countenance grew grim at the mention of them. He slowly nodded his head, taking a deep breath.
His voice remained steady, though he shared the great trepidation that the men around him had. “Ehrengard has wealth, and there is little doubt that they will use it to bring the Halmlander with them. I have received some word of this as well. I expect that there will be a great company of Halmlander on the battlefield. We cannot deny that, and we must ready ourselves for it.”
“They must never get through! We have no choice but to slay those mad dogs. Every last one of them,” snarled a man named Agobard. He was a noble with considerable lands in the great County of Rouenum, situated just to the south of the Western Marches. He turned towards a taller man to his immediate left. “Do I not speak true?”
“There can be no compromise on such an evil,” commented the tall, deep-voiced man, Count Arnulf of Rouenum.
Aelfric took close account of the highly regarded Count.
One of the most respected nobles in the realm, Count Arnulf had witnessed the brutality of war many times, and had walked more than once upon blood-soaked ground. Aelfric knew that there was little that could startle or surprise Rouenum’s great count, as Arnulf’s demeanor had been shown to be icily calm amid the worst moments of battle.
Aelfric was well aware that the Count had come across the wake of the Halmlander once before, after the mercenaries had passed through a village situated near the Saxan borders. All reports that had come back to Aelfric had said that the sight of the ravages of the Halmlander had immediately unsettled the Count’s battle-hardened eyes, driving him to openly weeping bitter tears.
There was little doubt that the horrific sights had left a deep scar upon the Count’s heart ever since. Virtually no man could leave a place that the Halmlander had desecrated with his memory unscathed. Such was the baleful infamy of the vile mercenary company from Ehrengard.
“Ealdorman Aelfric, if these demons are indeed among the ranks of the enemy, we have no choice but to slay them to the very last man. Give us your word that we will hunt them from the moment the battle begins,” Count Arnulf said quickly, though his voice held a faint tremor to it.
The sickening fear of having the Halmlander break through the Saxan lines, to gain unfettered access to the vulnerable villages and towns, was rife within the Count’s nearly-shaking voice. A panicked murmur broke out within the tent, and Aelfric knew the cause immediately.
The men who knew the Count had never before heard his voice tinged with such dire apprehension.
The feared mercenary band, from deep within Ehrengard, needed no legend to magnify their brutality. Ferocious warriors, they were an advantage to those princes who chose to hire them. Yet once turned loose, they were like a fire unleashed in a dry forest.
They could not be reasoned with, nor could mercy be found anywhere in their darkened hearts. Even the coldest of souls among those that hired them could not help but cringe at the tales of the atrocities that the Halmlander committed in pillaged towns and villages, to sate their seemingly inexhaustible bloodlust.
In battle, the black-hearted mercenaries were indeed well disciplined, fearless, and steadfast. Few commanders could hope to find better infantry. They had turned the course of battles around by themselves, and refused to break ranks, no matter what transpired around them.
Following a battle, especially in a sacked city, town, or village, they transformed into the most rabid and demonic of men. Their depravity knew no bounds.
Despite this, their battlefield value was too great for any prince bent on conquest to ignore. Using them also kept the Halmlander from becoming too restless within the lands of Ehrengard itself.
If left unpaid and unused for too long, the amalgam of former criminals, deserters, heretics, and other manner of rogues would heed no authority. They were not above visiting their devilry upon Ehrengard’s own lands, as some royal magnates and nobles had learned in the past, to their great dismay.
“The Halmlander may be the greatest reason why the shield wall must hold and not waver. My heart is as yours. They must not get through, no matter the cost,” Aelfric replied carefully, sharing their fears on the matter.
He looked to Count Arnulf, and held the man’s eyes. The look in the Count’s eyes was nothing like that in Godric’s. It was a firm gaze, filled with an honest confidence and sense of conviction. It was also a look that reflected a strong trust in Aelfric.
“The Halmlander will not be hard to find when the battle begins. You may be certain of that, Count Arnulf,” Aelfric continued, his steadfast gaze conveying his intent. “When we find them, we will look to strike them hardest of all… and we will look for them from the moment that the enemy first steps onto the battlefield. You have my word on that, Count Arnulf.”
A look of relief washed across Count Arnulf’s tense face. There was no argument forthcoming from any of the others. Many proceeded to voice their vigorous assent to Aelfric’s reassurance that the Halmlander would be actively sought out on the battlefield, without delay. The heavy air within the confined space lightened considerably.
The brisk chatter that was stimulated among them finally died down, as Aelfric patiently awaited the return of their attention.
“And is there anything else? Nay, I should ask, could there be anything else?” Agobard asked with incredulity. Aelfric could read in the man’s face that he had come to realize the full breadth of the dark onslaught marshalling to face them. “Are there even more to be sent against us?”
Again, Aelfric nodded, and the assemblage grew very quiet as a look of dismay spread openly on Agobard’s face. Every ear in the room was fully attentive to the Ealdorman once more.
“I would hide nothing from any of you,” Aelfric began. “As I have said, we have gathered what word we can. You can expect there to be more of the unexpected among the enemy ranks. It has been said to me that the Unifier will bring others who are not of a human nature. Like the army from the Sun Lands, these will be used to frighten and confuse us, taking advantage of our unfamiliarity with their appearances and methods.
“A strong race of beings called Trogens serve as the bulk of the Unifier’s sky forces. They are known to be a very fierce race, larger, broader, and stronger than humans. Their bestial appearance may be unsettling, as I have heard that the human warriors of the Unifier call them dog-men, though this is said in derision and mockery of them.
“It is said that they fight with a great and terrible fury. I have heard it said, from our spies and emissaries, that the Trogens speak of a promise given to them from the Unifier. The Unifier has promised to help them in the face of an ages-old oppression upon their kind by the Northern Elves… if they serve Him in this current war.
“Such a promise will only make them fight harder, for I have read that they have suffered a tremendous oppression for many ages, and that many of their kind are held in bondage within Elven lands. They will not enter the battle for lands or wealth, but rather to gain liberation for their kind. Such creatures will not be easy to overcome.
“Some word has also come to us that there are others… of an even larger and more ferocious race than the Trogens, though what these unknown creatures might be, I do not yet know.
“I have no word of any other forces that the Unifier might be sending, but that does not mean that there will not be other strange contingents present in their ranks. We must expect to confront much that we do not now foresee.”
His eyes carefully roamed the room in the weighty silence that followed. The word of the Halmlander and the presence of non-human creatures had obviously rattled a number of the men, but he could see the resolve re-emerging quickly upon their faces and within their eyes, as he quietly took his measure of them.
Their reaction was a very hopeful sign.
“No matter what they may throw at us, do not lose heart, good warriors of Saxany. You will see that great strength has been mustered to meet this threat to us all,” Aelfric stated.
He then looked towards three figures standing just to his left. Their stoic demeanor had not changed at all during his earlier words with the others. Determined eyes looked back to Aelfric, glinting in the reflection of firelight from a couple of nearby braziers, and what little daylight entered through the entry flaps of the large tent.
In the center of the trio was the tall, regal figure of Count Gerard II of Bretica. He was the senior personage among the three, and the most stout of build. Half a head taller, and standing to Count Gerard’s right, was Count Leidrad of Poitaine, a man of very tough appearance.
Both Counts had arrived with strong, experienced forces. The two men alone represented a substantial proportion of the Saxan cavalry that would be taking part in the coming battle. They knew each other very well, and had campaigned several times before within the Western Marches of Saxany.
To Count Gerard’s left was Count Einhard of Annenheim. Of medium build, Count Einhard was a little shorter of height than Count Gerard. The youngest of the three by several years, his thick, dark beard, and coarse, shoulder-length locks framed a well-proportioned, attractive face with very defined lines. His smooth skin held no marks or blemishes, and many daughters of nobles regularly bemoaned the fact that he had taken a wife only three years before.
To judge him by his youthful look and slighter build, some would have wondered why he stood so confidently in the company of the two other exalted men. Aelfric knew that to make such a conclusion would be to make an extensive underestimation.
Count Gerard had certainly made no such underestimation, for it was his very own daughter’s hand that he had happily given in marriage to the young Count of the northern Saxan province.
Light blue eyes were filled with a sharp alertness and keen intelligence, traits that had earned Count Einhard great respect from both Count Gerard and Count Leidrad. He had long since proven his bravery beyond reproach in the midst of border skirmishes. Like the other two counts, he had also not hesitated to come to the support of the margraves within the Western Marches.
Count Einhard had grown in reputation to become very favored and celebrated throughout the western lands of Saxany, full of spirit and unbridled tenacity. As the count of lands that had also provided a significant number of horsemen to the Saxan army, he shared areas of common interest with the other two nobles standing by him.
Aelfric looked past them towards a fourth man, standing at the left shoulder of Count Einhard. Broad shouldered, with a bullish neck, he was a very powerfully built figure, as if he was made of the rock of the mountains that he had been born among in Annenheim.
He had a high forehead and squared jaw, outlined by dark, wavy hair that descended to just below his shoulders. His face was scarred from an old wound on the right side. His countenance, even at rest, held a look of fierceness. Deeply set, dark, piercing eyes seemed to constantly be evaluating or measuring all those before him.
There was no mistaking his purpose or resolve. He had endured many harrowing adventures during his rise to becoming the leader of a full scara of sky warriors, before Aelfric had designated him to a place of authority over all the sky warriors of Saxany.
The warrior’s name was Aldric the Stormblade, and he had earned the bold title by being regarded as perhaps the most lethal sky warrior in the entire realm. It was said that an enemy would rather risk a bolt of lightning than face the stalwart fighter one against one, whose relentless attack was like that of a violent storm’s fury.
Aelfric’s next words focused upon those four individuals, as he explained their coming roles with depth and detail.
The three major counts, and Aldric, would command the main striking elements, and the most mobile ones, within the Saxan force.
Heavy and light cavalry, positioned at the wings of a vast, long shield wall, would ward the flanks of the great Saxan host. They would be favorably positioned to strike out at the enemy flanks, or to quickly respond to any enemy effort to turn their own flanks.
It was made abundantly clear that even if the mounted contingents from Bretica, Annenheim, and Poitaine contained warriors that were skilled fighters on foot, the necessity for cavalry in the coming fight was going to be most vital. Each and every warrior from the three key provinces fighting from horseback would be sorely needed.
Prince Aidan, who was not among those gathered within the tent, would be positioned behind the shield wall with a large, centrally positioned reserve. The reserve was to include a great number of the fierce, elite axe men that served in the royal household guard of King Alcuin himself.
Key margraves, counts, thanes, and other experienced warriors would be placed all along the front of the shield wall. Layers of lesser thanes, ceorls, and infantry would form ranks behind the initial shield wall, reinforced themselves by a dense mass of levied peasantry.
The warriors trained upon Himmerosen, the race of winged steeds found only in the northern reaches of Saxany, would have the difficult task of defending the skies above them. The numbers of Himmerosen at the camp, according to Aldric, was just over seven hundred strong. Aelfric knew that seven hundred was very few to send against what was coming.
It would nonetheless be the largest force of sky warriors ever gathered together in one place, in the young history of Saxany’s sky warriors. The winged creatures themselves, as with all manner of Skiantha, were far from being numerous in their native environments to begin with. The training necessary to master the riding of Himmerosen, and to fight from their backs, was anything but easy. It took time and painstaking effort to build a force of sky riders, and to generate seven hundred required an enormous effort.
While the number encompassed nearly all of the available trained steeds in the kingdom, there was one other concerted deployment of Himmerosen. Aldric had informed Aelfric that a small number of sky warriors had been placed under the command of a thane named Edmund in Wessachia, the mountainous lands that bordered Annenheim to the east.
The two groups, the large one under Aldric the Stormblade, and the much smaller one under Edmund of Wessachia, represented almost the entirety of the kingdom’s winged, mounted force. Very few trained steeds could now be found anywhere else within Saxany, and what scant few were left were mostly quartered at the palace in Aixen, serving King Alcuin as messengers.
The true purpose of Aldric’s force would be dire and singular in the coming fight: to defend against the fearsome Trogens.
Aldric assured Aelfric confidently that his warriors would not waver in their given charge. He had even boldly asserted that they would drive the Trogens right from the skies.
His deep voice nearly shook with the sheer fervor projected within it. The stout confidence of the sky leader appeared to lift the spirits of everyone in the gathering, as they stood a little straighter, with their heads held higher.
Aldric’s words set a good tone for the burdensome discussions that ensued, lasting deep into the day as various elements of the coming defense were proposed, considered, and examined. It was a quite arduous process, but by the time the assemblage finally departed the tent, their tasks and purposes were clear and understood.
For King Alcuin’s majordomo, nothing less would have been acceptable.