Saxon Storm: The Huscarl Chronicles Books 1 & 2 by Paul Bernardi

Author:Paul Bernardi [Bernardi, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2021-05-02T22:00:00+00:00

TWO

The persistent drizzle had now hardened into a heavy, freezing rain from which there was little or no shelter. Thurkill shivered, the cold and wet penetrating his bones through his sodden clothing. As he stood waiting with the others, his mind was filled with images of Hild. Had he really found her again? Could they have a future together?

“Here they come, lads. Stand fast for God and for Edgar.”

Aelfric raised his sword high above his head and roared his defiance at the approaching horsemen. Several hundred voices followed his lead. It was a sound that struck fear into Thurkill’s heart, so God alone knew what it must have sounded like to the enemy. He tried to count the knights bearing down on them, but gave up when he reached a hundred.

The sound of the horses pounding towards them across the hard-packed earth was now deafening, echoing off the houses that lined each side of the narrow main street. They had chosen their ground well, though. Hemmed in by the buildings, the horsemen were funnelled together, pressed in on each other with little or no room to manoeuvre. Faced by a solid, immovable wall of shields, they were like lambs to the slaughter.

But, despite their disadvantage, the Normans did not lack for courage. They forced their mounts forward, searching for a way through the impenetrable line of defence. But just as had been the case at Senlac, the knights could find no way through. As long as the Saxons held their ground, they could not be broken. Those at the back, unable to engage with shieldwall, launched missile after missile at the Saxons, while those in the front thrust their long spears into the gaps between the shields, hoping to find the smallest amount of exposed flesh. Here and there they met with success. Those warriors - the young, less experienced lads – who carelessly looked out from behind their shield rather than stay hidden, fell prey to a spear point. But their place was soon taken by others who were not so quick to make the same mistake.

The shieldwall was unbending. Even though they had only managed to muster a few hundred men, their ranks were five deep or more, with each side securely anchored against the walls of the flanking buildings. Row after row of horsemen - formed up in small conrois of five to ten men - futilely spent their strength against the wall of wood and iron, like so many impotent waves exhausting themselves against a cliff face.

Thurkill lost count of the number of times his shield shook from the impact of a spear, thrown or thrust, but not once did he fear for his life. They weathered the storm, making no attempt to fight back, content to soak up the pressure of the attack until its force was spent. With heads hidden behind their shields, they encouraged each other with manic grins, a few jokes and the occasional insult thrown at their foe.

“My mother’s mother would do better, and she’s been dead these ten years.

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