Legends Never Die: Berserker (ch. 24) (Patreon)

Grimar was the second eldest of Horrik’s five sons, born to him across three wives and other concubines. Growing up, I heard of them from my father and brothers, who did meet them. That they were likable. Good men. Strong fighters and so on. However, only Thorfinn had remained in Alabu for any length of time. Horrik sent his children out to be fostered elsewhere. With who, I didn't know, but in hindsight, what he was doing was rather obvious. His daughters were all married for alliances, and his sons were fostered with allies.

Horrik had been preparing to seize the throne of Denmark for many years. Which made Grimar's presence here so odd. Shouldn't he be leading his army against King Godfrey? A thousand men was more than enough to turn the tide of the battle for the crown. Yet, he was here. My mind raced with possibilities as we stood across from one another, Grimar flanked by three men. His housecarls and Hird, I assume.

Was the war already over? Was Horrik king? Was Grimar uninterested in aiding his father? Or was King Charlemagne such a great threat that Horrik sent his son and a thousand men to combat him while still being at war? I didn't know. I felt completely out of the loop because I had been outrunning news for months now.

The Saxon command looked between us uncertainly, but not without surprise. I imagine that he was told to expect this response. "I have heard of the blood feud between your families-"

"His father carved out the eye of my eldest brother," Grimar interjected, his voice cold. To that, I smiled at him. "His family are outlaws. Skalgamors. I would be in my right to have you killed here and now."

"Feel free to try to take that right, you goat-fucking lack-wit," I returned, making his housecarls stiffen at the blatant insult. "Your brother murdered mine. An eye is the very least I will take from him." I expected more of a reaction from Grimar. More anger. The insult was one worthy of a Holmgang, especially between enemies. So, I continued, hoping to provoke a challenge. "Your family is full of dickless cowards. You wear armor and a sword, but you'd be better off wearing skirts hiked up to your knees and bending over for any real man that passed you by."

The Saxon commander looked like he would rather be anywhere else rather than where he stood while Grimar's hird were turning a furious red. I wasn't speaking about their families, but they were taking offense on Grimar's behalf. Yet, Grimar himself watched me coldly, his lips thinning at the insults any real man would draw steel over. He was retraining himself.

I hated him for it. "Well? What say you? Or is that mouth of yours only good for sucking men?" I challenged him, my hate leaking into my tone while my axe shaft splintered to pieces at my belt. The head fell to the ground and I ripped the shaft out of my belt, challenging him with my eyes.

"I say that you're a child that thinks he knows what it is to be a man. A shame that your dog father died before he had a chance to teach you manners," Grimar returned, his voice deadly as a winter chill. Whereas my blood felt like it was boiling in my veins, it seemed that his had frozen solid. "I expected so much better from the tales. You challenge me when I outnumber you so greatly?"

He did outnumber me. Up to five to one.

"Have all thousand of them stand before you, then. I don't need my army to strike you down, you gutless coward. I'll kill every single one of you. The only thing that will change is how many times I have to swing," I shot back. I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to die screaming. Grimar's eyes narrowed at that, but it was his Hird that reacted more. A man with light brown hair and a long beard threw his head back and laughed loudly.

"A whelp of a dog barks the loudest. Just like your brother, Wolf-Kissed. He thought himself a man when he fought beside your father, but the moment he felt the kiss of steel, he wept in fear. He cowered and begged to live, shitting himself all the while. The gods must have laughed at such a coward. I know I sure did," he snarled back at me. Good. That was good.

"That insult is worth a Holmgang," I snapped at him.

"Aye, it is, whelp," the man returned.

"Here. Now. No shields," I told him and, despite the anger in his face, I saw something resembling doubt enter his eyes. He thought that I was all bark. How eager I was made him doubt. He looked to Grimar, who offered a curt nod in response.

The man I challenged offered a curt nod as well. "Agreed. Draw the square that you'll die in," he spat at me. I gestured to Thorkell to draw the square and he took his axe and started dragging it across the ground. He didn't make a large one. It was hardly five paces to the side and forward. However, the action alone was enough to draw the attention of men that had been watching the insults and they were gathering to see the fight.

I took out my remaining axe and tossed it onto the ground as he took out his own axe. "To the death. No yielding," I told him as I looked at Grimar, whose expression seemed to be made of stone.

"Agreed, whelp. I am Magni-," Magni began, but I cut him off with a scoff.

"I don't care," I told him bluntly. "What reason do I have to learn the name of a corpse?" I added, clenching my hands into fists. He would get no respect from me. He was a member of a Hird belonging to my enemy's son. While I had no quarrel with him, I wanted him dead. Him being an ally was more than enough for me to declare him my enemy. Rage flowed through my veins as it was decided that the Saxon Commander would take the role of judge.

He looked between us -- down at myself, who was a head and shoulders shorter than the bear of a man. He had his doubts. He would soon lose them. “Begin,” The Saxon decided and Magni immediately lashed out with his axe in a downward swing, directly at the nape of my neck with a snarl on his face.

I caught the haft of the axe, stopping it cold in its tracks and I gave Magni just enough time to understand that fact. With a harsh yank, I tore the axe out of his grip, making him cry out as the flesh was torn from his hands. With a Power Attack, I slammed my heel onto his knee and bent it backward with a harsh tear sound. Magni immediately dropped to the ground, sputtering as he tried to swallow his shouts of agony and the crowd around us were both horrified and cheering in equal measures.

The chants of my name or Wolf-Kissed fell on deaf ears, no more than a distant echo to the thundering of my heartbeat. My head started to feel light once again, a feeling that I only felt once before when I came across the raiders at my family's farm. Only this time, it didn’t feel like my spirit had left my body. Instead, as I grabbed Magni by the head, my fingers clawing at his skull and forcing him to look at me, it instead felt like I had been possessed by a foul spirit.

“Say it again!” I roared at Magni, my skin flushed red as I started to squeeze his head between my palms. “Say it again!” I screamed, slamming his head into the dirt, sending up a small splash of mud. “SAY IT!”

I hated him. Completely. Utterly. And I hated him only because he was connected to Horrik’s bloodline. Magni managed to let out a pained cry that was silenced by my enraged wordless roar in his face, hate ripping itself from my throat as I squeezed down on his head. The bone near his eyes cracked first, and when they did, the rest of the skull followed not a second later. Blood and brain splashed on my face, my hands clapping together as blood flowed between my fingers.

It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough. What I felt for this man was but a mere fraction of the hate I carried for Horrik and Thorfinn. I almost feared the day that I exacted my vengeance upon them because I knew, no matter how clever I might be, I could not devise a torment that they so richly deserved.

My chest heaved as I stood up, my gaze going to Grimar, who seemed disquieted by the loss of his man. “Call your men! I’ll duel them all! I’ll slaughter every single one of them to get to you, Grimar!” I roared at the top of my lungs, my rage echoing throughout the fortress, heard by every man. Grimar bristled at that, his eyes narrowing into slits, but he wasn’t so eager to challenge me. Even to avenge his man. “Face me! FACE ME, YOU COWARD!”

Grimar licked his lips, still calm as I began to pace back and forth, feeling like an animal trapped in a cage as I walked the length of the square. Magni’s blood soaked the mud and darkened it while his body twitched in death. “I came here to fulfill a bargain made between my father and King Widukind. A promise of aid against the Franks and their corpse god. Perhaps our aid is undeeded?” He questioned and I saw the Saxon commander stiffen at that. Alarmed.

I was about to agree. The war meant nothing to me in this moment. I couldn’t care less if King Charlemagne came here and killed everyone with his own two hands. All I cared about was Grimar. Getting my hands on him and making him scream. However, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Before I could smack it away, Thorkell leaned down.

“You’ve shamed him in front of his army. We should use his men to break the siege. You can always kill him after, Siegfried,” Thorkell advised and I hated the advice. I hated him for giving it because it made sense. This shame was not something that Grimar would easily be able to swallow, and word would spread. Just as word would spread of my deeds throughout his army.

Ripping my shoulder out of his grasp, I continued pacing. “You sniveling coward. Are you so attached to your life that you would bargain with the Christians? Fine. It is no matter to me.. You are a corpse, Grimar. A corpse with a heartbeat only because I haven’t killed you yet. You will not live to see the end of this war. You will not live to see the end of winter.” I spat at him before spitting on his boots. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to admit all of that, but there was no point in keeping it a secret.

We were both going to try to kill one another. That was fact. Nothing could change that. It was only a question of who would make the first and final attempt.

“I’m glad to have the approval of a yapping dog,” Grimar returned, trying to salvage what was left of his reputation before turning away.

The Saxon commander looked worried, “Wolf-Kissed, if I have to choose between the two of you, I would pick you. But we need the men that he brought. We don’t have the numbers to break the siege otherwise.”

I scoffed, my blood starting to cool. Now, questions started to breach through the red haze that had descended upon my mind. What was Grimar doing here? He said his father was fulfilling a promise. Could Horrik really spare a thousand men so easily? “What is he doing here?” I questioned, my voice gruff as Thorkell passed me a rag to wipe down my face and hands. “Is the war in Denmark over?”

“Not to my knowledge, Wolf-Kissed. It was still going last I heard a few weeks ago, just that both sides were going to wait for spring before committing to battle. Then a week ago, King Widukind sent a raven with a message to expect an army to come to the fortress. Any time anyone asks, we all get the same response -- Grimar’s here to fulfill his father’s end of the bargain.”

To that, I grunted, very unhappy with the news. To my knowledge, there hadn’t been a bargain between Horrik and King Widukind initially. But I think I could guess what that bargain was -- in exchange for breaking the siege at Frankfurt, King Widukind would either do something… or not do something. Possibly, in the initial days of spring, he could lead his Saxon army up north to help Horrik become king. Or, possibly, it was in exchange for not aiding King Godfrey in any capacity from joining his army to offering refuge. It had to be something big for Horrik to commit his armies so late in the year while already at war.

“King Widukind plays a dangerous game,” I decided, muttering under my breath, feeling the foul spirit leave me. And in its absence, I felt strangely exhausted even if the battle had been an easy one.

The Saxon commander nodded, “Aye, allying with a snake like Horrik…” the Saxon agreed, but it sounded like he was saying that because he knew he was my enemy.

That wasn’t at all what I meant.

King Widukind was playing a very dangerous game with me.

…

Our men were kept separate from the Norse army, but it was only for a night before we set out early in the morning to make our way to Frankfurt. As we marched, my men were bringing me bits and pieces of news about what was going on in Denmark. The news was that there wasn’t a whole lot of actual news. There hadn’t been a single pitched battle as of yet, but there was a great deal of raiding each other’s territories.

King Godfrey’s realm had suffered a tremendous blow when near a third of his jarls decided to declare independence from both him and Horrik. Some had consolidated underneath a man named Ulfljot Geirolfsson, but most chose to become independent Jarls like Horrik. Horrik, on the other hand, seemed to be consolidating heavily in preparation for the battles to come next spring. Most people seemed to put the odds in Horrik’s favor of becoming King of Denmark, but with the exodus of Jarls, that title carried less weight than it once did.

They also brought me news about myself. Horrik had spread lies about me and my family. That my father had been acting as a spy for King Sigfred for many years. That my father had never been a friend to Horrik or his family. That he had planned to betray Horrik to King Sigfred in exchange for becoming the Jarl of Alabu. Thorfinn was honored for fighting a shadow war against my family, but when my father lost his temper, the ploy was revealed.

The lies churned in my stomach and my fingers twitched to tear Grimar limb from limb as penance for the lies spread about my father. He had been a friend to Horrik for many years and his reward for it was treachery and murder.

There was also a lack of news. Horrik had no member of my family and the search for them had ended some weeks ago. To that end, no one seemed to know where my family was, and I chose to believe that was a good sign. They were laying low and in hiding. They weren’t branded and so long as they traveled far enough that no one was looking for them, then I had no reason to worry that they would be found.

Rumors about me were also circulating. The stories existed well in advance from tales of the battles I fought with Horrik, but some of them were starting to take a life of their own. One even claimed that I had slain a dragon. I wished that I had, but in my travels, I had yet to see such a majestic beast. There were even some that were a suggestion that I was a descendant of Thor because of my hair and eyes. It was a laughable one, and most people treated it as such.

Still, the rumors swirled around. They were not kind to Grimar. Many were calling him a coward under their breath while boldly proclaiming that if I uttered such words to them, they would make me swallow them. It was too early to tell what would be the lasting damage to his reputation or mine, but it mattered little since he would be dying soon enough. Beyond that, the only thing of interest was the fact that there were many that wondered if I was recruiting -- not because of faith or desire to aid me, but because they heard I was a great raider.

All the same, we continued on to Frankfurt early in the morning. Sigiburg was left with only fifty men to maintain a presence in the fortress while everyone else marched with us. The same for Eresburg when we passed it along our way, giving us another two hundred men. In total, we marched with an army of three thousand strong according to the Saxon commander, whose name I learned was Gerwig. It took several days to reach Frankfurt because of the painfully slow march, the entire army hardly moving each day.

But, after days, our scouts gave word that we had arrived at Frankfurt. And that things had changed a great deal since the last time that I was here.

The Franks were besieging Frankfurt, so it was a familiar sight to me, but what was different from the Saxons were the fortifications. Trees had been cut down to make a protective ring going around the besiegers facing Frankfurt, protecting them from arrows and stones. However, facing outward was another set of fortifications. Earthworks around the city gave the Franks a small slope to fight on while the ditch was filled with stakes. According to the scouts, the same was true all around the city.

It seemed the general was well aware of the plan and had known it long in advance. Running them off became far more difficult. Especially at the gates, which more fortifications were built around. In the space between the walls were burnt-out ladders and wood plank walls to protect some people in prior assaults on the walls.

It was an unwelcome sight, but it wasn’t as unwelcome as the news we received upon arrival.

“The Franks have reinforcements!” Authun, one of my scouts, announced. “They’ve crossed the Rhine. It’s too late to cut them off.”

“We could do battle with the reinforcements before they link up. How many do they number?” Gerwig voiced an idea, looking between me and Grimar. No words had been exchanged between us since the Holmgang. I knew he was looking to kill me as much as I was looking to kill him. And there were few places better than in battle. It was just a question of how many men he was willing to let die to fail to kill me.

“Two thousand,” Authun answered, catching my attention and my eye. He offered a subtle nod to me, confirming my unspoken question. Two thousand matched up rather perfectly with the number of men that had been chasing us around Francia. It seemed our hunters had figured out our destination.

“Five thousand in total,” Grimar voiced the number out loud with a note of distaste. “The Franks truly are limitless. I expected we would have killed every single one of them by now.”

I scoffed. “We,” I interjected, not looking at him. I said nothing else, but my point was made. He wasn’t included in that we. He just got here. I had been killing all of those Franks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his jaw tighten. He wanted to lash out, but I gave him good reason not to. “Counting the men in the city, we number four thousand. Or we did when I left Frankfurt.” I leaned forward in my saddle, trying to envision the battle in my mind.

The fortifications posed a greater danger than the incoming reinforcements. The slight difference in elevation would be devastating in effect and the stakes would greatly slow us down. The one advantage would be that the besieging force wouldn’t be able to completely focus on us. Not when they were technically being flanked or hit by a sally out from the Saxons inside.

“What say you, Wolf-Kissed?” Gerwig questioned, looking at me. Grimar visibly scowled at that, clearly unhappy with the Saxon looking to me instead of him.

“Authun, how far out are they?” I questioned, looking at my scout. In response, he offered a small shrug.

“Not long. I’d imagine they’d be running here. A few hours, I’d say,” Authun answered. Not very long indeed because it would take at least an hour to make out own preparations for so many men. Meaning that we would have up to an hour or two to route the besieging army. Not very likely, in my experience. Ambushes passed very quickly. More often than not, the battle was over by the time it began. A fortified position against an enemy that were just barely outnumbered? One that likely knew they had reinforcements on the way?

The battle wouldn’t be a short one.

“I say we attack at the main gate and push the Franks back. With speed, we can take the fortifications and use them on their reinforcements, but we must move quickly,” I decided. Because if we failed to move fast enough then we would be getting hit in the behind or sides from another two thousand men. A bad position. But, possibly, we could retreat into the city if things became dire.

“As you say, Wolf-Kissed. I’ll give the orders to my men.”

…

The sacrifices were made to Tyr, asking for his blessing before this battle that so much hinged on. I chose to sacrifice my horse, the one that I had rode for a season now. It was a worthy sacrifice and I thought that Tyr would smile kindly upon it. Beyond that, after a quick rest after a long day of marching, our battle line formed up and the Franks were responding in kind. They hid behind their fortifications. The Saxons could be seen on the walls, gathering in towers as they started taking shots at the Franks from above any chance they had.

The battle plan was simple. No cleverness to be found because it was too great of a risk. We focused all of our men at a single point, intent on breaking through. From there, if we got in fast enough, we could fight the Franks within these fortifications while using them against the reinforcements. However, because of the nature of the fortifications and the siege itself, the Franks wouldn’t be able to concentrate their forces so easily.

My two hundred and fifty men stood on the left side of the Saxons, who was between us and the rest of the Norse warriors. Off in the distance, I heard a shout. “Shield wall!” It sounded like Grimar, the command echoing out and it was accompanied by the sound of shields overlapping. The Saxons did the same, bringing their shields up in preparation for the hail of arrows we would be walking into.

“Shield wall!” I echoed the command, my warriors to do the same. It had been some time since I participated in a battle like this. My men were far more used to ambushes at this point. “Thorkell, Hallsetin -- we use the Norse and Saxons as shields until my mark. Then we charge,” I informed them, earning a nod from Thorkell and Hallsetin, my two foremost commanders. “Getting through the fortifications is going to hurt, but I imagine getting hit from behind will hurt more.”

“Aye. I imagine so,” Thorkell agreed a second before a horn blew in a long blast. The signal to charge. I stood at the front of the warriors and because of it, I saw how uneven the approach was as the Norse surged forward first, leaving the Saxons behind by a half beat. Lastly were my warriors, who trailed behind them both by two beats. The sounds of war cries echoed out through the air, matched only by the sounds of feet hitting the ground.

The Franks let loose a volley of arrows that rained down upon us as we charged, making men cry out as arrows slipped between the gaps in the shield wall or struck them in the legs. They fell, and if the arrows didn’t kill them, then getting trampled by their fellows did. More arrows fell from the sky in a near constant volley as we crossed the field. At the same time, the Saxons began to fire down upon the Franks. I saw that the effect was minimal because the Franks had long since prepared for this battle, but I did see some enemy soldiers fall.

But, by far, more Saxons and Norsemen fell to the Franks. Most arrows thudded into the planks of shields, feathering them with up to a dozen arrows. I glanced over my shoulder at Thorkell and Hallstein. “Pick up the pace! I’ll clear the way ahead,” I told them, earning cheers from the men as I began to pick up the pace myself, pulling ahead of the Saxons… then the Norsemen.

My axes appeared in my hands as I sprinted forward, my legs pumping. A few arrows sailed towards me, but I easily sidestepped them without losing any of my speed. The pit filled with stakes was rapidly approaching, as were the line of Saxons all wielding spears to keep any that tried to climp forward at bay. Once I was in range, I choked up on my axes before I flung both of them directly into the Franks, catching two of them in the face just as I leaped up, jumping over the entire ditch.

My hands went for my seaxs at my belt, drawing them as my feet touched the other side of the ditch, I darted forward into the thick of the Franks that were completely unprepared for the sudden assault. The spears were worse than useless to fend me off -- they were a weakness. Franks closed in around me, lashing out with their weapons, but I was already too close. My seaxs lashed out, catching Frank warriors in weak points -- gaps between their armor, or places that weren’t covered at all.

In no time at all, I found myself covered in blood that dripped down my blades, over my fingers, and down my wrists. Each movement sent droplets of it flying as I tried to carve a line through the Franks with the time that I had. Which wasn’t much because my warriors soon reached the ditch and they were forced to shift around the spikes to avoid being impaled on them. Though, that didn’t stop a few from falling to them, pushed forward by the men behind him. Or being feathered with arrows or struck down with spears.

In the end, the gap that I carved out was a small one, but it was enough for some of my men to get through the ditch with little difficulty. When they did, they stood on the fortifications, forcing the Franks to abandon their bows and spears in favor of picking up other weapons to face them. On the other side of the earthworks was a long and wide trench that was flanked by wood shields. In no time at all, the dirt began to turn into mud as we were forced to fight down the trench. I was aware of my surroundings, and I could see how my men were pushing the Franks back, but there was a point when the two densely packed bodies were just grinding against each other with nonexistent progress.

The Franks were getting the worse of it all the same as far as I could see, leading the charge to get as many of our men inside the trench as possible before it was too late. My men managed to get inside of the trench, but there were still many Norse and Saxons that failed to get inside so easily. The Franks were fighting hard, and in the trench, the bodies rapidly became an obstacle themselves.

I paid it no mind at all until I heard a loud blast of a horn off in the distance. My head jerked up at the sound, knowing that it wasn’t one of ours. It couldn’t have been a few hours already. The battle had hardly begun in earnest. Meaning if it hadn’t come from us… then…

My attention was stolen from the battle as I crawled back up the earthwork to stand on top of it to see the source of the horn blowing. With some luck, the person that did made no secret that it was them.

Off in the distance, I saw the reinforcements that were streaming out of the woods, all of them on horseback. Leading the charge was the hornblower, and they cut an imposing figure. They didn’t wear a scale hauberk, but instead wore an odd type of metal plate armor in places while a pure white cloak clasped with gold fluttered behind them. A helmet obscured their face, but I did see that braid of… blondish-red… pinkish hair escaped the end of the helm.

Pointed at our army was a long spear that was painted white and gold with the Christian cross painted onto it. My stomach clenched at the sight of hundreds, a thousand even, of cavalry raced forward directly toward the Norse and Saxon warriors. There was no warning that I could give as  only a handful of warriors noticed the threat at all. And by the time they did, it was already far too late.

Father had warned me of the dangers of Frankish cavalry before… but when the Franks slammed into the back of our army…

I realized he had completely undersold how devastating that charge could be.