*
Aelfric rode out from the center, as the Saxans identified the Halmlander positioned on the enemy’s far right flank of the mind-numbingly huge battle line coming straight towards the shield wall. At all costs, the Halmlander would have to be stopped.
Adrenaline flowing within his veins, Aelfric was escorted by a small number of thanes and household warriors as they raced down the back of their lines, galloping towards the farthest edge of the Saxan left flank.
Behind the rigid shield wall, at the extremity of the left flank, Count Leidrad was gathered with a mass of cavalry. They were in full readiness, to counter any enemy maneuver to try to outflank the Saxan forces, or to counterattack, if the opportunity arose in the pending combat.
Never had Aelfric been so glad that the old kingdoms of the past had united, as the Northern Kingdom had never enjoyed such richness in cavalry. Every last bit of mounted force available would be sorely needed now. With so much hanging in the balance, and his worst fears about the Halmlander presence confirmed, he took an appraisal of Leidrad’s riders.
The long blades of their lances, with short, protruding lugs at their bases, were held in strong, eager hands. Their unobstructed faces exhibited a high degree of determination, as they sat with firm postures, garbed in their coats of mail.
Their heads were topped by segmented helms of a rounded type, or another kind which contained a down-tilting, prominently flaring rearward extension. A few had thin nasal guards, and some with the round-style helm also had the added protection of mail aventails, which guarded their necks all around the back of their heads, starting from the sides of their faces. A small number of the better-equipped horsemen had iron vambraces and greaves, echoes of older styles whose influence hailed from an earlier age of faraway Theonia.
Complimented with straight, broad, single-edged daggers at their right hips, in sheaths looped around their belts, three leather straps suspended their sword scabbards on their left sides. The quillons of long swords, with broad fullers and blades that tapered little, rested up against the bronze chapes crowning the top of the scabbards.
Turned downward around the tops, their high leather boots held bronze prick-spurs towards the base of their heels. They carried round wooden shields, covered in leather, fitted with iron grips, and an iron reinforcement bar across the back.
They were well-drilled, and Aelfric had witnessed many of their mock combats, as groups of cavalry charged and hurled spear shafts with tips removed, only to feign flight and be pursued by the other group. The men mustered before him were possessed of excellent skill on horseback, and he had little doubt they would have quite a part to play in the coming battle; perhaps very soon.
There was not much time left before the opposing sides clashed when Aelfric finally reached the back of the left flank. The black sea of Halmlander warriors were visible now, within just a few hundred yards of the Saxan shield wall.
Thanes on the ground were boisterously shouting orders to the archers, slingers, and javelin men in the deeper part of the ranks, urging the men to ready themselves. Many of the household guards in the front lines were shouting in a building frenzy at the oncoming Halmlander, shaking their two-handed axes high in the air, in gestures of defiant resolve.
“Out! Out! Out! OUT!” erupted the pulsing Saxan chant, from the massed ranks along the shield wall.
An even louder roar of “By the Almighty!” then surged and ascended, as the front lines of Saxans whipped themselves into a fury, to meet the the brutal Halmlander with sharpened steel.
Aelfric could also feel the vibrations underneath his feet, as well as the swelling chants delivered in thick Ehrengardian words, both increasing in force as the enemy host neared.
By now, Aelfric knew that every man along that shield wall recognized who it was that marched towards them. The Saxans comprehended that only their bodies stood between the murderous ranks of Halmander and the undefended villages spread across the lands behind them.
In a way, an enduring fight was about to continue, that between heaven and hell, as the rightful, defending Saxans steeled themselves to confront the fury of the predacious Halmlander warriors.
Espying a particular pennon held high above Leidrad’s cavalry, looking almost like an axe blade, Aelfric made his way towards the great Count.
Count Leidrad hailed Aelfric loudly, as soon as he saw him. “So it begins! Poitaine is ready with a storm of steel to greet these churls!”
“And you will need to be!” Aelfric shouted back, navigating his horse through cavalrymen that were parting to allow him passage through. “We must be ready when the right moment arrives, to strike a fatal blow to these vile Halmlander.”
Count Leidrad’s face darkened with a simmering anger. He spoke with the growl of a wolf. “They will not set their torches to one peasant hut, Aelfric. By the All-Father, those monsters will not get past these plains. The grassland shall quench its thirst in their blood!”
Aelfric was very encouraged by what he saw. When the full strength of the enemy forces had finally been revealed, he was not entirely sure how the outnumbered Saxan ranks would react. Yet he knew that if every man echoed the blazing sentiments displayed by the great Count before him, the Saxans might yet have a chance.
*