The Road to Vengeance by Judson Roberts

Author:Judson Roberts [Roberts, Judson]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Northman Books
Published: 2008-12-08T13:00:00+00:00

9 : Grim Fruit

The battle began in brave and desperate deeds, but it ended in slaughter. Ivar and his men poured from the wooded ridge extending along our left flank, and fell upon the rear of the disorganized swarm of Frankish horsemen that were pressing forward to attack our shield-wall. The warriors along the back of the Franks’ line, recoiling from Ivar’s assault, spurred forward into the rows of riders in front of them, in turn pushing them forward against the bristling hedge of the shield-wall’s spears. In the end, the Franks were packed so tightly together by the press of their own men and mounts that they could barely move at all. They bravely tried to fight, but we swarmed around them, stabbing and hacking with our spears, swords, and axes in an uncontrolled orgy of killing. We let their blood wash away the fear of death we all had felt, and our anger and sorrow for the many comrades we had lost.

Many songs and stories have been composed about the great victory we won that day. But there is much that is never told in the tales that skalds spin. The screams of the wounded and dying, and the blood—the thick, red blood that was splattered over everyone and everything, soaking the ground until it squished underfoot—such things are not remembered in song. Nor are the weeping of wives and children when they learn they will never see their husbands and fathers again. War may be glorious in tale and song, but it is grim in fact.

Some few of the Franks’ army escaped by breaking through the encirclement on the river side, and fleeing desperately from the field. Their leader, Count Robert, must have been among them, for his body was not found. Others, several hundreds of them, threw down their weapons and were taken prisoner. But most of the Franks—thousands of them—died that day.

We made the Frankish prisoners do the grim task of fetching the dead from the field of battle—our dead only. We left the Frankish dead where they fell, though many of our warriors wandered among the bodies, stripping the slain Franks of their weapons, armor, and valuables. After the battle, not a man among our army, no matter how poor, was not equipped with brynie and helm, and the markets of Hedeby and Ribe would be flush for many months after our return to the north with captured Frankish armor and weapons offered for sale or trade.

For days after the battle, the sky overhead was black with circling carrion birds, and foxes and wolves skulked in the fringes of the trees, waiting for night to fall so they could sate their taste for flesh.

We also forced the Frankish prisoners to fell trees in the forest, haul the cut wood out onto the plain, and construct a huge pyre. Ragnar announced that in three days’ time, we would hold a funeral feast and burn our dead.

The mood in our army was grim. Every ship’s company had taken heavy losses.

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