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Scouts returning to Aethelstan’s camp reported that the enemy force’s current dispositions indicated a strong likelihood of imminent attack.
Adding to the growing tensions was the reality that there was no easy way of finding out how their fellow Saxan warriors, massed in their many thousands out upon the Plains of Athelney, were faring. Aethelstan and the smaller, second force in the westernmost hills of Wessachia did not even know if the battle out on the plains was underway or not.
Aethelstan did not have to be reminded of what his warriors were up against, and why they had to stop the invaders in their tracks. He recognized the enemy’s hopes, and what they intended to do if they were able to get beyond Aethelstan’s force.
The Saxans had no option but to hold their ground and resist, with every last shred of strength that they had available. If the enemy slithered deeper inside their lands, great havoc would inevitably be wreaked upon Wessachia. The rear and the flank of the main Saxan army would be left exposed and vulnerable.
If the Avanorans were able to successfully exploit such an opening, the results would be simply too disastrous for Aethelstan to even ponder. Everything was at stake, and Aethelstan knew that he could not live with himself if he failed in his effort.
Things were certainly getting no easier for the Saxan thane, as accumulating word of the enemy’s capabilities reinforced his fears. More word had arrived that the attacking force was well-prepared for all manner of eventualities.
Segments of siege engines were being carried along with the baggage train of the enemy army. Aethelstan had learned the daunting facts regarding the siege equipment from a particularly brave scout, who had nearly paid with his life to gain the discovery.
The presence of man-powered, stone-throwing devices and giant crossbows had been confirmed, and it would not surprise Aethelstan if the enemy force also possessed the devastating stone-throwing devices that worked off of counterweights. Aethelstan had heard tales about such incredible weapons, and how they could batter down thick stone walls, reducing them to rubble with no need to sacrifice men in scaling them with ladders. There was no doubt that timber palisades surrounding burhs would be no match for such formidable devices.
The Unifier’s army coming towards his force, Aethelstan was quickly learning to his chagrin, possessed the capability of shifting its tactics to assault the lightly defended burhs and villages. With the vast depletion of hale fighting men caused by the General Fyrd, such sieges would present little in the way of a challenge to Avanor’s might. Without question, Aethelstan’s modest forces comprised the thin line that would have to hold at all costs.
During the deeper hours of night, Saxan efforts were much more shielded from the monitoring eyes of the airborne Trogen scouts. Under the cloaking darkness, they had strained to achieve whatever they could, from the setting of lookouts to pickets. The Saxans had labored carefully to disguise the positions, to make them harder to discern in daylight, when the eyes of the airborne enemy scouts would be shadowing them incessantly.
For his own part, Aethelstan had spent the better part of the previous afternoon and evening taking careful accounts of the strength at his disposal. He had assiduously taken stock of all of those who had been levied from Ealdorman Morcar’s territory, most especially those who were men of experience in arms.
The final assessment, after all the various musters had been appraised, gave him a little more encouragement. He had discovered that there were a fair number of experienced, trained warriors within the masses summoned up in the General Fyrd.
Many of them possessed good quality weapons, and even some armor, such as shield and helm. Most of the better-equipped men had periodically served as garrison guards for thanes within their burhs or fortified residences.
Likewise, the ceorls of greater rank were almost all found to have well-maintained shields, swords, spears, mail shirts, and half-helms. Even more fortuitous, there were also many more ceorls than Aethelstan had initially expected would be available to him.
Yet once again, the area of concern that had been regularly plaguing his mind came back to the fore. It tamped down all of the welcome discoveries, as it regarded the greater majority of his entire force.
The greater proportion of the broad levy was a rabble of common men who had very few good arms, and even less skill. Aethelstan tried to gain a little encouragement from the fact that the northern and eastern territories of the Saxan realm were made up of very hardy, tough men.
Many hailed from a lineage that had survived the dark times when Midragardans had visited several vicious raids upon the Saxan lands. The Midragardan raiders had made no distinctions in those distant times, as monks, villagers, ceorls, and thanes alike had been beset.
The villagers had risen many times to meet the seaborne threats, acquitting themselves surprisingly well in many storied instances. They had often shown courage, and they also demonstrated that they were not without their own strengths either.
There was some hope in that regard for the present time. Many northern Saxans, even simple villagers, were fairly good hunters. Hunting required a degree of diligence and patience, as well as competency with weapons such as the bow. Aethelstan could therefore expect to find at least a few quality fighters among the men of the mass levies, though inexperienced, and modestly armed at best.
Yet there was much to be concerned about, things that Aethelstan could not afford to deny. In normal times, men of the General Fyrd would have been called forth only to defend their market towns, or immediate villages. The extraordinary circumstances that the Saxan Kingdom now faced called for these levies to leave home and hearth, to march to the front lines far away, to meet a threat that was common to all. Adding to the burden, much of the commoners’ better equipment was old, some being ancient family heirlooms, but it would have to serve them as best it could against the well-armed Avanorans marching upon them.
The thanes, and those of their immediate household would be in a much different situation. Most possessed mail shirts, as did some of the warriors from the primary, Select Fyrd. They also had the best condition shields, helms, and practically all of the swords available.
As with their traditional methods of warfare, Aethelstan would array the better equipped warriors along the front lines of their formation. They were to be positioned among the general levy men of their own territories, to provide leadership and encouragement for the others.
The rest of the common levy, with only a smattering of helms and dilapidated shields, and mostly armed with spears, bows, makeshift war clubs, slings, and farming tools, would be mainly deployed in the ranks set in back of the shield wall.
Before he got too daunted, Aethelstan reminded himself once again that at least the General Fyrd provided his force with a good number of capable archers. Years of hunting in the mountains, hills, and valleys of the north and northwestern forests of the Saxan Kingdom had honed their skills with the bow.
Also of slight comfort, the terrain that Aethelstan’s force would be fighting in would not be advantageous for cavalry, whether from friend or foe. This was not a hindrance for Aethelstan, as most of Saxany’s mounted warriors were from the southern provinces, and would now be fighting with the main army out on the Plains of Athelney.
Horses were nonetheless a concern to Aethelstan in terms of his own force. The thanes, their household and garrison guards, and many of the higher-status freemen had arrived at the camp with Aethelstan on horseback. Unlike a cavalry force, they dismounted to fight, and were not trained for effective fighting from horseback.
As such, there were many horses quartered within the main Wessachian encampment, and it was imperative that they did not fall into the hands of the enemy. There were many stories of the times when the Midragardan raiders had captured horses, using them to move quickly into the heart of the kingdom during the legendary incursions launched from sea or river.
Not only would the enemy be able to move faster with more horses available, but their knights, trained to fight both on foot and horse, would surely benefit from an influx of extra mounts.
The skies above would also be to the Saxans’ distinct disadvantage. The few Himmerosen that were still available to Aethelstan had been grouped with Edmund, prepared to respond to a desperate, emergency situation. They would be quickly overwhelmed if they tried to challenge the more numerous Trogens now in regular evidence high above them.
The enemy forces assaulting them on the ground would undoubtedly have a greater number of weapons and armor, a much larger proportion of well-trained warriors, and considerably more numbers overall.
The enemy had both heavy and light cavalry available, as well as the vicious Licanthers, with their nimble Atagar handlers. Both heavy and light infantry had been reported as well, as had the presence of a few horrifically strong, massive Gigans.
It was a force with flexibility, power, and speed, and one that gave their commanders all manner of options.
Despite the clear burdens, and the enemy advantages, Aethelstan was not about to even come close to conceding the coming battle. He knew that the situation did not bode well from the perspective of a commander, but he set his mind only to one pursuit; discovering a way to victory.
The principle task would be to hold off each enemy wave, while simultaneously fending off harassment from the air. They would have to wear the Avanorans down and delay them, until dwindling supplies forced them to have no choice but to pull back. It was perhaps the only chance the Saxans would have, though Aethelstan knew that it was truly much easier in conception than in achievement.
Aethelstan knew that his men would fight well together, as they were comprised of friends, family, and pledged relations, all from the same general region. Many had grown up with each other since birth, and there were many brothers, sons, and fathers up and down the ranks of both the select and general levies. Ties of blood knitted an inspiring pennon to rally around, forging the links of an incomparably strong, resolute coat of mail that would serve the Saxans well in the coming fight.
All sentry posts and scouts had been placed on a full state of alertness, for the incoming forces of the Unifier were capable of a powerful, swift strike. It would also not be unheard of for the enemy to attack at night, and diligent watches were maintained at all hours, as Aethelstan was not about to take any chances.
At the end of his inspections, Aethelstan was pleased with the general disposition of the men, a feeling shared by the higher thanes within his force. His Wessachian forces were as prepared as they could be, barring any hidden surprises.
As a quiet peace descended over the Saxan camp, and many of the men took to much-needed rest, Aethelstan made his way back to his own tent. He wanted to be left alone for a few minutes of solitude, to immerse himself in his own thoughts and reflections.
He had urged his higher thanes to spend the evening in prayer and rest. Before he set his own head down to sleep, he would be spending some time with a priest from his own parish, Father Wilfrid. The great thane feared for the lives of all of his men, and intended to beseech the priest’s blessing and prayers for his warriors.
The coming clash was unavoidable, and it was also a likely reality that many now resting in the camp would not live to see the onset of the very next night. It was possible that number would include Aethelstan himself, a fact that he was very well aware of.
As he sat amid the thick shadows of his tent, the thought of not seeing his wife and family again flashed in the back of his mind. A wave of emotion threatened to power those fears all throughout his mind, but he was able to push them back. Yet he knew that the inner demon born of those fears would not leave him until he stood clear of the battle, and knew that he had survived it.
He also feared what might happen to Gisela, Wynflaed, Wyglaf, and Wystan if he and his men did fail; and by doing so leave their homelands wide open to the ravagings of the enemy forces.
His wife and children lived inside the walls of the large market town of Bergton, and he was angrily cognizant of what vile traditions the Avanorans would uphold if they were to sack it. It was likely that a victorious Avanoran army would be given dispensation to plunder and indulge their lusts for three entire days; three days of unbridled terror unleashed among his kin, friends, wife, and children.
The torturous thoughts brought a cold chill seeping throughout him, causing him to physically tense to hold the dire thoughts back at the darker edges of his mind. He wiped the beaded sweat that had built up on his forehead, and turned his heart towards thoughts of his faith in the Creator. He took several deep breaths in the stillness of the tent, and once again steeled his mind with conviction, faith, and purpose.
He understood what was at stake very well, and knew what cost would come with failure. Despite the great dread that stretched its claws into his mind and heart, he made sure that the fears were kept hidden and private. He knew that he was more than just a man to those that followed him. He was a leader, and a symbol of the order that held their worlds together. He could do no less than keep a steady countenance for his men, whether they were a greater thane or the most poverty-stricken peasant among the men of the general levy. It was the very least that he could do for them, and to do any less would be to weaken them, and put them all at even greater risk.
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