Legends Never Die: Glorious in the eyes of the Aesir (ch. 25) (Patreon)

The charge was absolutely devastating. There was simply no other word that could hope to convey the effect that the cavalry charge had on the unprepared back of the army. Spears broke as they tore through men like an axe through cloth, shattering into splinters while the horses knocked men over and trampled them under a tide of hooves. Some horsemen weren't so lucky. The wall of people proved to be too thick in some places, either halting the charge or flipping a horse over and sending the rider flying.

The air became filled with the panicked screams of men and the death cries of horses as their bodies broke. Still, the Franks carved deep lines into the army, leaving devastation and death in their wake. At the very tip of the charge was the warrior in the odd looking plate armor and white cloak, his spear darting out swiftly, and with each thrust, he seemed to find the neck of a warrior, allowing his charge to maintain some momentum. However, even as his white mount became red from blood, I could see that the devastating charge quickly lost momentum.

The initial impact was deadly, but the deeper they went into the army, the more their horses got bogged down. Franks were pulled off of their horses, or the horses fell to blades. It was an incredible thing to witness. All of the damage came from the impact and I could see the ripple effects through the army as it tried to figure out what just hit them, but for as much damage as they had inflicted the cavalry had no staying power. While the charge was by far deadlier for our army, the Franks didn't emerge unscathed as the tip of the charge began to turn around to escape the Saxon lines.

"Archers!" I shouted, seeing the cavalry pull out in quick order. The ones in the back ranks pulled out first, some lingered to help their allies, but some were sacrificed when they were too deep inside our army. "Aim for their horses!" I shouted, knowing what was about to come next. They were going to deliver another charge. However, I didn't see any infantry with them, meaning that the cavalry was alone for now. They rode ahead hard in order to get here before we could rout the besiegers or hide behind their fortifications. Clever of them, but very bad for us.

My men echoed the orders and I soon was joined by a dozen of my archers on top of the earthworks while I picked up a bow and arrow from the hands of a dead Frank. My mind was racing while the Franks were gathering themselves back up, forming ranks outside of our warriors' reach. As for our army, the unexpected charge had been deadly. Worse, it had been confusing. I could hear shouts in Germanic and Norse that we were completely surrounded. Some were calling for us to flee and that the battle was already lost.

From where I stood, the latter couldn't be more untrue, but I imagine things looked very different on the ground. There were calls to form a shield wall or to stand together, but they were fleeting things. Many men had been killed in the charge and more were expected to die in another, worse, they had been hit from behind where our warriors thought they might be safe. The army wasn't breaking yet, but I could feel it. They were close.

"Thorkell! Hallstein!" I shouted, taking command of my men. I had to. Grimar and Gerwig were failing to react to the charge. At this rate, the next one was going to be even more damaging than the first one. "The Saxons are going to take another charge! We need to be there so the men don't lose heart, and kill as many Franks as we can!" I shouted over the sounds of utter chaos. Something I had learned over the past few months -- men took heart from the men around them. If they were afraid, then everyone would be afraid. However, if they saw men holding strong and fighting back, then the opposite happened. They would take heart, hold strong and fight back.

The Saxons didn't seem to have that in them. Nor did the Norse warriors under Grimar's command. My men wouldn't be enough to hold together the entire army, or block the charge, but what we could do was inflict enough damage on the Franks to make sure they lacked the strength for a third charge.

"Form up! Form up!" Thorkell shouted back, hearing me, but I didn't hear anything from Hallstein. My men started to clamor over the earthworks and back into the ditch, letting their places be taken by warriors that were desperately trying to get behind the fortifications. That desperation had good use, I saw, because progress surged in taking the earthworks. Men fought for their lives, not just to break the siege.

At that same moment, the Frank cavalry began to charge again. Slinging my bow, I notched an arrow as the dozen archers at my side did the same. There was no spoken command, but when I let loose my first arrow, they did the same. They sailed over the head of our army, heading directly toward the Franks. About half of the arrows missed, but the half that did strike true all toppled the horsemen. Their horses collapsed, acting as an obstacle for those behind them.

The man in the white cloak managed to evade an arrow, still leading the charge that was picking up speed. I released another arrow and with the closing distance, all of our arrows struck true, taking down another dozen horsemen along with a few others that failed to get out of the way. Notching a final arrow, I took aim at the tip of the charge, giving my Projectile Prediction a good enough lead before letting the arrow fly a half second before the charge impacted the Saxons that were putting up a pitiful defense.

The arrow struck true, catching the stark white horse now dyed red in the forehead, and instantly it began to collapse. As the head hit the ground and the Saxon shield wall, the back legs came up and the horse rider went down, vanishing in the tide of bodies. The damage that we did wasn't enough to blunt the charge and the Saxons and Norse were still hit hard. The Franks slammed into them, the shield wall breaking like splinters as the Franks charged into the army. The effects were just as devastating as they had been the first time. This time, the panic was really starting to settle in.

There were some men at the sides that started to break off from the main army. The only thing that kept them in the fight was the fact that the Franks, the ones that weren’t already committed to battle, were getting out of the trenches to flank around. Not many of them, telling me that the Saxons inside Frankfurt were committed to the battle, but enough to prevent them from quitting the battle entirely. My men were marching ahead, easily marked in the sea of bodies because they were pushing their way forward instead of moving away.

“Keep firing!” I instructed my archers as they steadily picked off horsemen one by one. The horses needed to go. Without them, the cavalry were just men, and men died easily. As I spoke, I tossed my bow and arrow to the side before going to rejoin my men. I could do more damage as an archer in this case, but it wouldn’t mean anything. Not if the entire army was routed. I alone couldn’t stop a charge, but if people saw me fighting, they might think that they had a chance.

My archers did as I instructed, firing arrow after arrow as I followed the path that Thorkell had taken. All the while, I shouted, “Are you not ashamed to bend so easily?” I shouted in Germanic, then in Norse. “To run and hide in the face of the enemy? Where is your spine?! Or are you only capable of fighting Christians behind walls?” I shouted as I pushed forward, grabbing a man that was starting to push past me and shoving him back. “The gods have offered us a challenge! To see if we are worthy! You disappoint them with this shameful display!”

My words were lost in a sea of voice, but they were heard by some. Some seemed ashamed of themselves, but most continued past me, either not hearing me or pretending that they didn’t. Of the few that were ashamed, fewer managed to gather their courage to stop their fleeing and start pushing back at the crowd of men all racing to get behind the walls of Frankfurt. It wasn’t much, I wouldn’t even call it enough, but it was something.

Taking in a deep breath of air that tasted of blood, I heard the sounds of combat that were growing. As I shoved another man out of my way, I saw the source of it.

The warrior with the white cloak and spear had survived the fall, I noticed, and the white cloak was nowhere to be seen. Neither was their helmet, I noticed, which brought me up short.

A woman. I think. Strawberry pink hair was tied off in a braid, a beardless face… The fact that she was a woman was the least alarming thing about her. She was surrounded by corpses, and even as I recoiled at the sight of her, she killed another two men in the space of a breath. One she speared through the throat and with a flick of her wrist, she ripped it out at an angle, sharply spinning the blade, before plunging it into another man’s thigh.

My hesitation already proved too costly. A roar escaped me as I threw myself forward, launching myself over a veritable wall of corpses that she had made. A mistake, in hindsight, because as I surged forward, her gaze darted to me. Blood was flicked away from her spear, sending a splash of it out, before I suddenly found the tip of it racing directly toward my heart. Unbreakable Guard saved me, but it was the closest thing to real danger I had experienced since the gods gave me the blessing. My seax skirted off the leaf shaped spearhead, and almost as soon as I blocked the spear, I found another thrust aimed at my throat.

Leaning my head out of the way, I batted the spear to the side to find that her face was every bit as surprised as mine. “Only one other person ever managed to block my spear twice,” she informed, settling in a wide stance. She seemed young. Late teens to early twenties. The metal plates that she wore were framed by blackened leather that had ringmail woven into it. “You must be Siegfried.”

“I am,” I confirmed, narrowing my eyes at her. She had been fast. A type of speed that I hadn’t seen in anyone else. “You?”

“I am Astolfo! One of King Charlemagne’s faithful and reliable Paladins,” Astolfo greeted me, a wide smile on her face, sounding almost friendly despite the chaos that surrounded us. “I’ve been chasing you for ages! Should’a known you’d end up finding me. I thought you were supposed to be like twelve feet tall? You’re just an itty bitty baby,” Astolfo remarked, sounding a bit alarmed by that fact.

My eyes narrowed at the insult. And at the reveal that she had been the one hunting me. A Paladin. I had heard of them. Some had uttered that Charlemagne’s Paladins would be my downfall and deliver retribution upon me for my deeds. I thought nothing of it, to be honest. Charlemagne and his Paladins were men -- and a woman -- so I just had to kill them. Simple.

Only it didn’t seem so simple anymore.

“I didn’t come here to talk,” I told her, my grip tightening on my seaxes. She had the range advantage. It could have been mitigated, but people were giving her a wide berth because of how easily she killed. Much in the same way that people did with me. People only attacked as a mob when they felt like they had a chance of winning with numbers. Take that away, and they’d give way and bend as easily as grass did to a summer breeze.

“What a coincidence. Neither did I!” She announced before we both moved as one. Her spear moved faster than a serpent’s tongue, I found, because in the span of a single step, I found myself fending off two separate thrusts -- one low at my foot, and the second at my throat. Both were batted to the side, or diverted with the edge of a seax. By the time I took another step, I had fended off four more thrusts.

She was fast. My eyes hadn’t deceived me. I’ve never seen speed like that before. Standing my ground, Unbreakable Guard was the only thing that saved me from being struck dead a dozen times over as her speed increased, the tip of her spear becoming little more than a blur of movement and if it wasn’t for her hands moving, I might have never had guessed where the tip of the spear was going.

I couldn’t win like this, I realized. It was a foreign thought. An unfamiliar one. It was almost like a smack to the face. I was a very, very long way from being the boy that couldn’t beat his brothers in a fight. Killing men had almost become easy. I was stronger, faster, and deadlier. It was only natural that I could kill them before they had a chance, and even when they did, I could overwhelm them. This was different. This was…

“You’re like me,” I realized, blocking the spear. A plan formed in the back of my mind, seeing the grooves that were being hacked into the shaft of the spear. “You see them too. The windows from the gods.” Part of me was excited. I never thought that I would come across another that could communicate with the gods like I did. However, that excitement quickly turned into confusion because Astolfo looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.

“See what?” She questioned, her brow furrowing as she looked at me. “God has never spoken to me. If he was going to speak to anyone, it would be King Charlemagne, his ultimate servant.” She continued, making me frown. I didn’t understand. If the gods didn’t speak to her, then how could she move this swiftly? What could it be if not a boon from the gods? Did the Christian God give out gifts as well? I…

I didn’t understand. It was the same, yet different.

No. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change what I had to do.

Astolfo sensed the change in me because the friendly smirk vanished and I found myself under a renewed assault. The tip of the spear flickered out like a whip, vanishing and reappearing rapidly, targeting every gap in my armor with deadly accuracy. With it, we fell into a deadly dance of me trying to close the distance between us and she maintained it with deft ease. Her footing was sure, and she seemed keenly aware of everything around her as she stepped between bodies and fighters.

My seaxes cut a notch in the unusually hard shaft, carving away slivers of it with each block. Half the time, I missed the mark, but she threw so many thrusts, it hardly mattered. A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead, my arms beginning to burn with effort -- one block was a little slow, sending sparks to dance upon my skin. Wincing, I nearly missed a thrust at my throat but I found my pace again a beat later.

Despite it, a slight smile began to tug at the edges of my lips. I didn’t understand what Astolfo was if she was not honored by the gods like I was, but that didn’t matter. The battle was unlike anything I could think of. The closest thing I could compare it to was getting ambushed by Fenrir. This was a battle. A contest of wills and ability that I found precious few challengers in the past year. This was glorious in the eyes of men and the eyes of the gods, and I found myself enjoying it, despite the chaos around us.

Then enraged when I saw a warrior attacking Astolfo from behind, creeping forward. There was murder in his eyes. Hate. I didn’t doubt that he had suffered a loss to Astolfo -- a friend, a brother, a father. I didn’t know. And, in that moment, I didn’t care. “Don’t you dare,” I snarled out, flipping the blade to my fingers before throwing it with all of my strength at the man. The blade flew over Astolfo’s shoulder, who moved out of the way before it had even left my fingers, and it slammed into the intruder’s forehead with enough force that it knocked him on his ass.

Astolfo looked at me with wide eyes, seemingly surprised by my actions. Enough so that she paused the attack, letting me grab an axe from one of the warriors she had killed. “You do have a strange sense of honor,” she acknowledged, letting me get used to the weight of my new axe. “I thought as much when I heard about Cologne. But you sacked every church you’ve come across since.”

“You should not hoard such treasures in your churches then,” I told her, giving as blunt advice as I could. I hoped they would not heed it. Raiding their churches was very profitable.

“That’s not how that works, but I’ll pass the message along-” Astolfo started, only to be interrupted by the sound of the blaring of a horn. Three blasts. One of our signals. We broke through the fortifications and retreated into Frankfurt. A signal that I hoped we would have to use. As far as I could tell, that meant that the battle had gone rather poorly for us. Very poorly. The men around us reacted to the signal with swiftness, all but abandoning the battle the moment that they heard the signal to rush through the gates. The only ones that lingered were my men.

I locked eyes with Astolfo for a long moment, noting that her eye color was an odd one. Dark blue that almost seemed purple in the right light. She took a step back, a friendly smile back on her face. “I’ll be seeing you, Seig! Bye!” She said, giving me a wave as she began to retreat, reaching out to a horseman and getting pulled up onto the horse as the Franks retreated. The entire ending was sudden, I thought. So sudden that my mind couldn’t help but race at what just happened.

The Franks weren’t quitting the battle, meaning that I did have little time to linger, else I would find myself locked out of the city. I took a step back, turning away from the Paladin.

Why did it feel like the Franks wanted us in the city?

…

The battle was a poor one, I learned. A very poor one. It was possibly the first battle that I had ever lost, in hindsight. The charges at the back had been devastating, and attacking the fortifications had been costly. Worse, our wounded were relatively few. That was because the gate had been closed on many of them -- some of which could have survived their injuries, but they were on the wrong side of the door.

But the losses didn’t just come from the dead. I hadn’t seen it personally, but near five hundred Norse and Saxons had broken off from the army to flee into the wilderness. I imagined that they would be ridden down in the coming days. In addition to the losses that we had suffered, we entered Frankfurt with a third of the number that we had set out with. Two thousand men was still an army, but compared to the losses that the Franks suffered, it was difficult to say anything but that we lost the battle overall.

As much as I looked forward to reuniting with Morrigan and Jill, as soon as I took stock of my own losses -- eight men with twelve wounded to various degrees of severity -- I was asked to attend a meeting with King Widukind. Still bloodied, I was flanked by Thorkell and Hallstein, the latter handing me a damp cloth that had already scrubbed some blood clean. While I cleaned my face up, I took a moment to note the differences since I was last in Frankfurt.

A number of buildings didn't seem cared for because there was no one to live in them. The Saxons had an army of five thousand behind the walls, but that was a small population for such a city. Most of Frankfurt simply hadn't seen any use in a season. Beyond that, it almost looked the same. "We need to work on our communication during battle," I decided, handing the bloodied rag back to Hallstein with a look, making the older man wince.

"Aye. The boys' blood got up," Hallstein acknowledged without making excuses. "Got too used to fighting Franks unawares, methinks. When they fought back, it pissed some of the lads right off."

A problem in itself. Now that we were back here, we needed to get used to fighting battles. That, and I needed to get used to the idea that we wouldn't have complete autonomy anymore. While winter was at the door, come spring, I imagine we would have plenty of time to relearn how to fight as a part of a larger battle. I grunted while Thorkell thumped Hallstein on the shoulder, conveying that he agreed. I didn't know much about Hallstein -- or Thorkell, really -- but he was a reliable commander, I've found. One that rarely made the same mistake twice.

Our escort brought us to an unfamiliar building in a part of the city that seemed to have seen a lot more use in the past months. The buildings in the area were of a finer make, which explained why. The building we were led into was called a villa, I think. I hadn't seen one before, but I recalled Horrick had spent some time in one to recover from an infected injury. It was made of a whitish-colored stone and the floor was made of stone slabs instead of dirt. I looked around at the interior, noting the fine furniture and lavish decorations -- many, I suspected, had been  looted from other villas.

It was when we arrived at the center of the building to find a courtyard that the villa was framed around, I saw King Widukind. He seemed tired, I thought. There were dark bags under his eyes, and at his temples, there was a bare hint of gray. King Widukind wasn't a young man by any means, but it struck me that he was graying about a decade too early. The table of the city had been placed in the courtyard and it had been expanded considerably, detailing not only the city, but the surrounding area. Complete with the fortifications the Franks made around Frankfurt.

Standing next to him was the Saxon Commander, Gerwig. As well as Grimar. Both were bloodied and looked tired.

"Wolf-Kissed," King Widukind greeted me, offering a small nod in my direction. "It's good to see you again. Tales have long since reached us of your efforts within Francia. I wished we could have welcomed you with a proper celebration," he offered, his tone unfailingly polite, but my eyes were on Grimar.

"Hm," I grunted in response, my gaze flickering to King Widukind for a moment and I could see he knew exactly what my issue was. "One of King Charlemagne's Paladins led the cavalry. Astolfo. She has been blessed by their God, I think. She is a Raven-Feeder with her spear." There was an expression of mild alarm on King Widukind's face at the news, possibly because I was saying it. "I couldn't kill her."

"That… is troubling news," King Widukind admitted, sounding like he meant it. "It is something that we will have to factor into our plans, but, for now, we must focus on the task at hand. Today went poorly for us, but we have the advantage. The walls mean they are unlikely to attempt an assault and winter is upon us. While we shall remain warm and well fed in the coming months, the Franks will be forced to sit outside of our walls." King Widukind started, gesturing to the Franks in the model.

Meaning that, for now, the battles were done. We would winter in Frankfurt. King Widukind continued, "The reinforcements will only strain their supply lines for they must keep a considerable amount of men here to prevent us from simply leaving. We wait here, gather our strength, and when spring arrives, we crush the Franks." Nothing that I hadn't already expected so far.

"What of the rebellion?" I questioned, crossing my arms over my chest. A rebellion I was supposed to help foster by weakening King Charlemagne's supporters. Based on the slight grimace that King Widukind wore, he didn't have good news.

"You may have done your job too well, Wolf-Kissed," he told me. "You've weakened his supporters, this is true, but others have drifted closer to him out of fear of a common enemy," he told me, earning a deep frown. I hadn't expected that. "At the same time, it has also drawn some to us. There are those that remember the old ways in this kingdom. They have sought me out and offered their assistance. A rebellion is still possible, it would just require that you sack fewer cities, Wolf-Kissed."  The remark was greeted with a few chuckles -- neither Grimar nor I joined in.

That was a complication that I hadn’t foreseen. I couldn’t claim that I regretted my actions, but I did see that they had unforeseen consequences. “These allies that approached you -- can they do anything?”

“Agitate. None are willing to commit troops to our cause, but they can weaken Charlemagne in his courts. Whisper doubts and inflame tensions. That, and offer information. It was one of them that smuggled a message to me about the fleet that King Charlemagne gathered to transport the reinforcements.” He said, giving me a small nod, as if to tell me that it was nothing to be concerned with.

My eyes narrowed. “Fleet?” I questioned, making King Widukind blink at my tone.

“The fleet that the reinforcements were transported on. I was told that it was an army some five thousand strong,” King Widukind informed, making me tilt my head while my pulse started to quicken. It felt like we were talking past each other. It felt like…

“The reinforcements we just faced?” I questioned and there was a small amount of growing alarm in King Widukind’s face. “Those were men that had been pursuing my raiders for the past season. They didn’t come from a fleet. What fleet are you talking about?” I questioned, as it started to click together and sink in. They thought that the army we just faced was an entirely separate army. They didn’t know the numbers like I did. They didn’t have to dodge them like I did.

Meaning that the fleet King Widukind was talking about was something else entirely. An additional five thousand men were being transported up here. An entire second army that matched our numbers. We were facing two armies with a combined number of nearly ten thousand. My stomach clenched at the thought and the tension became palpable as even Grimar began to look nervous as a great miscalculation was just revealed.

We were stuck in Frankfurt for the winter. And there was an entire second army roaming Saxony completely unopposed.

I could only imagine what we would see when Spring came.