Legends Never Die: Traps and Plots (ch. 28) (Patreon)

"It looks like disease," I observed from my position on the watchtower, looking out at the Franks that were hurrying their dead to a large grave. Next to me, King Widukind stood, most of his body protected by the stone rampart, but standing next to him was a warrior that had his shield raised. Just in case someone tried to assassinate the Saxon King. Well outside of the effective range for the average archer, I saw a trail of soldiers that were carrying bodies to the large hole that was being dug. It was slow going -- the cold made the ground tough, almost like stone.

"How many have fallen?" King Widukind asked me, his gaze on the Franks as they toiled.

"I've seen them bring out near a hundred bodies," I told him, catching his attention. "There may be more still in the trenches, but I can't say from here," I admitted. I had come up to this tower most days to practice my carving, hoping to earn Crafting experience. The rest of my time was spent working on the plan to defeat the Franks, or getting lessons from Otto. I now spoke Frankish as well as any Frank, and I was as fluent as I could be in Latin. Meaning, altogether, I spoke Norse, Germanic, Frankish, and Latin.

"A hundred dead won't turn the tides of a battle," King Widukind uttered, and I could see his mind racing. That was likely true. I wasn't certain how much a hundred men would matter in a battle of thousands. The Franks, to my knowledge, matched our numbers. However, they simply weren't attacking. Meaning, that if we wanted to leave, then we needed to attack them and they were well prepared for such a thing. Or so they thought.

"Perhaps, but if a hundred more are ill?" I questioned, offering a small shrug of my shoulders. Thorkell had spoken at length about sieges and their terrors. How sickness spread through the densely packed men like a foul spirit, making men puke and shit themselves until they died. It seemed like a terrible way to die. For the most part, we had avoided such things because of how spread out people were in the city. Though, we had lost some to a pox.

To prevent the spread and save those that were ill, we made offerings to the gods and they must have heard us, because most had recovered.

King Widukind was silent, simply placing a hand on the rampart and a ring on his finger tapping against the stone. "Spring is almost upon us," King Widukind observed. There was still frost and snow, but the bitter chill of winter was no more. Each day, it was getting warmer and soon, the snow would recede and be replaced with fields of grass. "It is earlier than what we planned, but we are ready." He continued, speaking to himself. "The only danger is a cold snap."

Sometimes winter deceived men. I had experienced it once when I was much younger -- young enough that I didn't really understand the danger until now. Back on my family's farm, a winter had ended early -- the weather had quickly warmed up, the snow vanished, and spring came early. Many farmers -- including my father -- had decided to sow the fields because of it. Only for the trick to be revealed weeks later when the cold returned in full force, killing the crops before they could sprout.

I never made the connection before, I realized as I stared out at the Franks. But it had been that same year that my eldest brother had fallen ill and died.

"Our stores have held out," I voiced. We wintered in Frankfurt in comfort. The animals were all slaughtered as the winter progressed, and while many did not get to eat as much they would like, even with our rationings no one went hungry. Because of that, our food stores were lower than anyone would like, but we had enough to feed the army for another two months. Longer if we stretched it thin.

King Widukind made a noise of acknowledgment, "Your witch's charms worked wonders to keep the rats out." His finger continued tapping, "We have the food for a march. It'll slow us down, but even if there is a cold snap, we could see it through. If there isn't, then we would have an early start to this year of war."

"Is it worth the risk?" I asked him, wanting an answer so my men could prepare. To that, I was answered with more silence before King Widukind looked at me, his gaze measuring. His finger stopped tapping and as I met his gaze, I saw that the Saxon King had visibly aged over the winter. More wrinkles gathered around his eyes, his brow had frowning lines, and the spots of gray at his temples had grown larger while spots of white appeared in his beard. It seemed like he had aged a decade instead of wintered in relative comfort.

"How many men can you call to your banner? The real number, please," King Widukind requested, stopping me from uttering a lie. He gave me a tired smile when he saw it. "I'm not deaf or blind, Wolf-Kissed. I know of your feud with Grimar."

"Which you ignored when you invited him," I retorted, an edge in my tone that made King Widukind's smile fall.

"I did," he admitted without shame or hesitation. "Because it was more convenient for me to do so. Horrik is a snake, but he's a man with cunning. He offered me something that I could not resist, even if it earned me your ire -- men. You are a raven-feeder, that is true. But you alone can't keep a thousand men at bay. And that is what I needed to win this war."

I worked my jaw at that -- part of me was indignant and angry at him for so blatantly admitting it. That he knew it would anger me and he did it all the same. Another part of me respected his honesty, because I already knew the truth and he hadn't tried to lie about it. Another part tried to see it from his position, but that was something I struggled to do. "In exchange for what?" I asked him, suspecting the answer.

My head.

"He would give me a thousand men for a year in exchange for three things -- I do not come to the aid of King Godfred, at the end of the year, I release the men to attack him from behind… and that I ensure that you die during the war." He told me and, very suddenly, the soldier next to King Widukind seemed extremely nervous.

I narrowed my eyes, "You sent me into Francia unsupported." To raid. I never forgot what Thorkell said -- dead mercenaries didn't need to be paid. I thought that's what it was, but it could have been part of a larger plot to have me killed using the Frankish army.

"Because you did not need support," King Widukind said, and I searched his face. I didn't think that he was lying. His gaze was steadfast and even. "The norns intend to tell quite a story with you. I doubt that they intend to cut your life short by having you fall to a stray arrow." Meaning that he wasn't trying to get me killed, merely putting me in dangerous situations because he expected me to survive them and inflict heavy damage on the Franks. Which I did, proving him right.

"So, I ask you, Siegfried -- how many men can you muster?" He asked me, and I saw what he was really asking. How many men had I stolen from Grimar over the course of the winter?

"Between eight and five hundred," I answered with honesty. "The mercenaries see their fortune fighting for me. Men that have families back in Denmark have proven resistant." I had taken a full fourth of Grimar's army. The three hundred difference came from the men that I had recruiting amongst the Norse while I was raiding in Francia.

King Widukind acknowledged that with a nod, "I will not oppose you if you challenge Grimar to a duel, but I do ask that you wait to do so. At least until we have broken the siege. With his death, we will lose a portion of the army and I intend to use them to the best of my ability." His gaze grew heavy and a frown rugged at his lips, "They will be honored with a position in the vanguard. Their losses will be heavy. When you make your challenge, he will not outnumber you two to one."

I told Grimar that he would not live to see the end of winter. And it was not yet Spring.

"Agreed," I decided, making the deal. My heart was cold to the men that would be lost. For their families that would mourn them. I had no pity or remorse in my heart -- they chose to fight with a man that I had a blood feud with. They picked their side. And for it, they would die.

"Begin the preparations. The time for war is once more upon us."

…

“We are to hide away with the women and children, are we?” Morrigan asked, her tone scornful as the army made preparations for battle. Frankfurt saw a hustle and bustle that it had missed since we took the town over. A hand was on her cocked hip, and she had a dangerous tilt to her head -- after months of living with her in relative close quarters, I knew that stance. And even if I didn’t, it seemed dangerously similar to the poses struck by mother and Ida when my father was a few choice words away from an argument.

“Do… you wish to fight?” I asked Morrigan, trying to picture her with a spear in hand. I think she would be good with one, but I struggled to see her as a shieldmaiden. Shieldmaidens fought together and cooperation was… not Morrigan’s strong suit. Her golden eyes narrowed at me, almost taking my words as a challenge, but I wasn’t entirely certain why.

“I wish to be of use,” Morrigan decided, crossing her arms over her chest, making the gold bands clink together. “I am not content to watch on from the sidelines because if this plan of yours does not work, it will be my neck on the line.” Her gaze went to a balcony that overlooked the city of Frankfurt. It was almost unrecognizable from when we had first arrived. More than half of the buildings had been destroyed, salvaging what wood and nails that we could.

In their place were barricades and fortifications. It wasn’t quite a palisade, but it wasn’t that far off either. The fortifications were focused at the gates with fallback points, paths cleared out for speed and all of these paths led to a single point at the heart of the city. Earthworks were put in place -- mounds of displaced dirt and stone were put up to help secure the fortifications. All of which were currently hiding under a layer of white snow that soon enough would be dyed red.

“What do you have in mind?” I decided to ask, thinking that it was safer than having to guess. Morrigan offered a slight smile at that, one that was sharp enough to cut.

“To be proactive,” Morrigan answered without pause. “We secure what is ours first and foremost. There are other ways out of the city. When the battle begins, I and Jill shall make our escape instead of waiting in line with everyone else.” Ah. She didn’t want to help with the battle, but to help herself. That made more sense. “Do not look at me so. T’is a simple matter of practicality. What is ours must come first. I understand you feel some level of loyalty to King Widukind, but do not be blinded by it.”

My lips curled into a frown, “You think he intends to betray us?”

“No. He seeks to use you. As he has throughout this war. He will put you in impossible positions as often as he can because it benefits him to do so. You are a weapon to be wielded against his enemies -- we benefit as well, true, but the more you succeed, the more danger you shall face. Until one day, it will be too much and you will fail. Perhaps you may not lose your life, but not dying isn’t the same as winning.” Morrigan stepped closer, her voice low and her eyes almost glowing with intensity.

Her words echoed some of my own thoughts. As wells as the most obvious example -- King Widukind used Grimar and his men. The moment that their value decreased to him, he didn’t hesitate to offer Grimar to me.

“In this battle, where are you?” Morrigan questioned and I worked my jaw for a moment.

“The rearguard,” I answered, making her point for her.

“The last to leave,” Morrigan noted, her eyes narrowing. “The reason why traits such as loyalty and compassion are valued is that they make fools pliable to the ambitions of the cunning and ruthless. And have no doubt, Siegfried, King Widukind is cunning and ruthless. Aid him for as long as it benefits, but never, ever, dare to believe that he has your best interests in mind.”

Morrigan had always made her opinion known. She desired to leave Frankfurt -- Saxony -- and continue onto Miklagard. She felt that we gained all that we could from working with King Widukind. I disagreed. In the short term, she was correct. We gained much and we were risking it by staying. However, in the long view… King Charlemagne needed to be curtailed. He needed to be stopped. Otherwise, he very well might continue up to Denmark, killing every pagan that he saw.

And once the Frankish aggression was stopped and King Widukind could rein in peace…

I would have an ally when I returned for the Danish throne.

“You’re right,” I decided, nodding to her. “Make the preparations. I’ll give you some of my men to help,” I told her and Morrigan offered a rare smile.

“Good. You see reason,” Morrigan said with what sounded like genuine relief. I think that she expected me to dig my heels in more. I opened my mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by the sound of the door opening, revealing Jill. She seemed a bit startled the moment that her eyes landed on me, freezing in place as if she were about to step back and retreat from the room.

Things had not been well between me and Jill. In a fit of irony, things between Jill and Morrigan were far better. There was no arguing or shouting of any kind, but it felt like a gulf had opened up between us, or that a huge insurmountable wall had been built. Our interactions were stilted, and I knew for a fact that she took efforts to avoid me. Morrigan, however, seemed thoroughly unsurprised by the interruption.

“T’is fortunate timing, Jill. Siegfried here is off to war yet again. Undoubtedly, the fool will insist on putting himself in excessive danger simply because nothing has managed to kill him yet.” Morrigan remarked, earning a frown from me. “If there is anything to be said between you, t’is the time. For who knows what the morrow brings?” She questioned and… given the number of fortunes I had heard her give to my men, that was probably the very last thing you wanted to hear from someone who claimed they could see the threads of Fate.

That thought was pushed to the side in favor of focusing on something alarming. Was Morrigan… trying to play peacekeeper? Was she sick?

My gaze slid to Jill to see her looking at Morrigan with a very dull expression, unimpressed with the rather transparent attempt at manipulation. When her gaze flickered back to me, I saw Jill swallow thickly before she stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “Siegfried…” She started, saying my name with confidence before trailing off, her expression tightening.

If I had to use a word to describe Jill, the word meek came to mind. She was shy for the most part -- when she wasn’t arguing with Morrigan -- and soft spoken. She didn’t seem like someone that could handle pressure very well. Yet, as she stared at me, I saw a steel in her eyes that I had seen only once before. Though I had been drunk and poisoned at the time, so I didn’t recall it well. How she gazed at me now, I could easily believe that she could confront a room full of warriors and a brother that had terrorized her.

“I’ve made my peace,” Jill told me, walking forward, her tone firm but grim with an edge of sorrow. I knew what she spoke of, watching her approach. “I betrayed my family,” she stated in no uncertain terms, a fact that she shied away from every time it was brought up. “I don’t know if I regret it or not,” she admitted and I stiffened ever so slightly.

“I don’t regret saving you, but I… do lament what it cost,” Jill clarified, seeing my expression. "But it has cost me and what’s done is done. This is the path I chose, and I am determined to see it through. With you, Siegfried,” she told me, stating her feelings outright. I couldn’t say that it’s what I wanted to hear per se -- but what I wanted was completely impossible. I couldn’t deny that her choosing to help me had cost her something.

Still, “I’m glad, Jill.” I told her and I saw a tension ease out of Jill, almost as if she was expecting rejection. “I-” I started, only to be interrupted by a horn blast that made my attention snap to the balcony. The signal. The sound would carry over the walls, alerting the Franks to what was happening. It’s what we wanted. Glancing back at Jill, I saw that her expression was dismayed.

Reaching out, I lightly took her hand and gave it a small squeeze, “I’ll be back soon enough, and we can discuss everything then. I promise,” I told her, earning a small squeeze of my hand back as she nodded.

“Then I will await your return,” she decided, sounding like she wanted to say a great deal more but understood that there wasn’t the time for it. Battle was calling. “May the gods favor you, Siegfried. So you can return home,” Jill added, giving my hand one final squeeze.

Home.

Casting a meaningful look at Morrigan, I nodded before I made my exit to the villa that we had wintered in. I steeled my mind and my heart for the battle to come and when I headed onto the streets, I saw that they were in a flurry of activity. The horn gave the signal that we would be fighting, but to prove it, we were giving battle, people were marching up to the walls. For the first time in a season, they were manned and the Saxons were battering their shields while calling out challenges to the Franks.

I ignored the noise while I marched to my starting position in front of the gate. At the mouth of the gate were fortifications that almost mirrored the ones that the Franks built. Around the gate, in a U formation, was a trench that was filled with sharpened sticks. That trench led up to an earth wall that was braced against a palisade. One part of the fortification was left deliberately weaker than the other parts and the hope was that the Franks would recognize that weakness.

King Widukind’s plan was meticulous. The goal wasn’t to relieve the siege, not really. We hadn’t heard anything about the other Frankish army that had been marched up at the tail end of autumn. As of right now, the Frankish armies were separated, but they wouldn’t remain so forever. We couldn’t hope to defeat an army of ten thousand, if not more. However, fighting two fights of five thousand each?

That was possible, but only if we absolutely crushed the Frankish army here. It wasn’t enough to just break the siege. We needed to slaughter the enemy while taking as few losses as possible to ensure that we had enough strength to continue fighting. It was for that reason that the Franks would be allowed to enter the city instead of us fighting from the walls, where it was safe.

The plan was crafted to deal as much damage as possible to the Franks. How well it would work remained to be seen. Which was part of why I was in the rearguard, so to speak, to ensure that the army had enough time to withdraw.

“It’s going to be a long day,” Thorkell remarked, scratching at his beard as he stood next to me, an axe braced against his shoulder.

“Aye, it is,” I agreed, feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders as I rested a hand on an axe at my belt while I carried a bow in the other. My archers were arranged around the gate, allowing complete coverage. Each had three quivers each with orders to withdraw from their position the moment that they ran out. “I’ve never fought a defensive battle before,” I remarked, hearing another horn blow.

“It’s a nice change from being on the offensive. Get to hide behind a wall, for one,” Thorkell remarked while a cheer went up that nearly downed out the sound of a horn blasting two more times. The signal that the Franks were giving battle and making their own preparations. “Not sure how you’re going to like it, though. Part of the reason why you win is that you carve a line through the enemy, breaking their formation, and exposing the poor bastards that weren’t in the fight.”

I hummed in response, acknowledging the point. I’ve heard as much before. It was a big departure to how I normally fought -- I couldn’t break the enemy by destroying their formation. Instead, I had to be an impenetrable wall that the enemy broke themselves on. King Widukind walked me through what was expected and I was as prepared as I could be.

It was sometime later that I heard the first sounds of combat -- the shouting of warriors and the thrums of bowstrings, letting arrows loose. The walls became alive with activity as the Saxons taunted the Franks, calling them every foul name under the sun, and beckoning them to attack. It was some time later that the Franks managed to reach the walls, climbing up on ladders or making the front gate buck as a ram slammed into it.

Runners came and went, telling me what was going on because coordination was key in this battle. The Franks were making light attacks on the walls, mostly to spread our forces out while they concentrated on the gates. A clever tactic, but one that wasn’t entirely unexpected. And, so far, the attacks on the walls had been repelled fairly easily with the Franks unable to get a foothold yet.

I stood where I was, a knot of tension between my shoulder blades as I watched the wood gate buck again and again and again. Each time, the wood splintered a bit more. All the while, I waited for the sound of a horn blast to alert me to the next step of the plan. It came not long after. A sharp note ringing through the air, telling the Saxons on the walls to begin abandoning their positions. They moved down into the city, at their own designated positions. It was calm and organized, allowing the Franks to gain a foothold on the walls.

Near the same time, the wood gate in front of me suffered a fatal crack, bending inward before with a final heave, the gate swung open. My bow was up and as the very first Frankish soldier entered the city, I put an arrow in his throat. His body was trampled under a tide of Franks, and if they were surprised to see the fortifications, they couldn’t show it. The Franks outside of the city were pushing them forward toward us and they had to move or they would be crushed.

My archers let loose a stream of arrows, feathering the men that entered the city. Their protective gambesons did little to stop the arrows and one by one, they fell forward. The dirt in front of us was already becoming a thick muck as so many people rushed towards us, mixing with the blood. In no time at all, the Franks were pushing into the trench and climbing up on the earthworks to get to us.

The arrows ran out almost too quickly, I found as I picked up a spear that had been placed beforehand, tipping the point down and skewering a man in the chest with a broad leaf-shaped tip. All across the wall, my men were doing the same -- stabbing down at the Franks that were trying to surmount the fortifications.The air became heavy with the scent of blood -- a familiar smell at this point -- and the sounds of war. I kept a close eye on the weak point in the fortifications, watching as the Franks realized they were having more success there and started  pressing it.

Making a decision, I brought a horn that was hanging around my neck to my lips and blew out the signal -- two short blows and one long one. A signal to my men and the messengers that were running and back and forth. In response, my men started to abandon their positions even though we could have held out a bit longer. Some withdrew with more grace than others, and my lips thinned when I saw a man fall to a stab in the back because he simply turned around to flee.

But, for the most part, they were able to withdraw and run down the paths that were laid out for them for a quick exit. The Franks started to clamor over the earthwall, throwing themselves over to secure it. They chose to help those behind them rather than choosing to chase us, giving my men the time they needed to get to the next set of fortifications.

Grabbing the rope that was tossed over the side, I climbed up the earthworks and in the distance, I heard more horns blowing. Same pattern as mine. So far, our retreat was more or less in sync. As a warrior pulled the rope so that the Franks couldn’t use it, I brought the horn to my lips -- Two long blows, meaning that we were at the second position. The fight for the walls was mostly won by the Franks as the Saxons withdrew from them.

The Saxons that were on the walls were now behind the dirt and wood fortifications. It might have seemed like a harsh downgrade, but the positioning was deadly as it meant we could bring our numbers down on the Franks while they couldn’t do the same to us. Throughout Frankfurt, I heard sounds of fighting. None of the Franks on the walls had bows and arrows, so they resorted to throwing down their spears. One even threw a boot. They were bottlenecked and guided, forced down paths of least resistance to engage in prepared positions.

Ahead of me, the Franks continued towards us, crawling over the fortifications like ants. At the position where I now stood, deeper inside of Frankfurt and away from the walls, there were five quivers at my feet. I wasted no time nocking an arrow and letting it loose. In response, the Franks raised their shields, choosing to march in a formation, but it mattered little. My men and I were marksmen. I could see their trajectories, each one lining up shots that would kill. One by one, the Franks dropped and their formation splintered under their slow advance, now sensing the trap that they were already in.

I heard a horn blast when I was barely more than three quivers in. I paused and my stomach clenched when I heard two more long blasts following it. That meant that another group had retreated to the third position already. Meaning that we were out of sync. We had bled the Franks at this position, but nowhere near as badly as we had intended to. This fortification didn’t possess a weakness. It was here that we were meant to hold them for a time.

“Damn it,” I cursed, bringing the horn to my lips and blowing. My men seemed confused by it, but they obeyed all the same. The Franks hadn’t even managed to make it up the earthwall before we were moving on, heading to the final position. The first two were meant to engage the Franks, draw them in and make them commit while bleeding them all the way. Now, we headed to where we would fight it out.

The last part of the earthworks were the most expansive by far. A large defensive ring that was focused on a single point. It wasn’t anywhere near large enough to house the thousands of men that we possessed, not even close. However, it didn’t need to house that many. Only a thousand or so.

As I took up my final position, I looked within the defensive ring that was set up near the city center to see the opening that had been dug out. Over the winter, tunnels were made for this day. Each one was precisely measured out by King Widuking himself. They went in a number of directions, but what was important was the fact that they not only went underneath the stone walls of Frankfurt, but they went behind the enemy lines.

While their focus was on the city, thousands of men finished off the tunnels to attack the Franks from the rear, flooding their fortifications. I had no way to know how the fighting was progressing outside of the city, but based on how I was seeing men pour through the tunnel entrance, it seemed to be going well.

The rearguard settled in. I notched an arrow, firing at the Franks that were completely oblivious as to what was happening. For a third time, the Franks rushed to meet us, feathered by arrows for every step that they took. My jaw clenched when I saw more of the arrows missed than not, telling me that I had gone over the 5% archers for my warriors. All the same, as more Franks started to stream forward, hundreds upon hundreds of them, it mattered little because of how densely packed they were.

They struck the fortifications with almost thunderous force, clamoring at the palisade that was erected and trying to climb up, only to be rebuffed by spears and arrows. There were more of them than I would like, I thought, seeing the pathways that we traveled filling up with men that were baying for our blood. I fired arrow after arrow, killing man after man, but it hardly seemed to make a dent in their numbers for they were so tightly packed that the bodies refused to fall.

Over the scent of blood in the air, I smelled smoke. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dancing of flames as a building was set on fire, thick black smoke billowing upward. I couldn’t tell if that had been us or the Franks. It didn’t matter. Thorkell was at my side, stabbing down with his spear before he looked at me, “How much longer?” He asked me, a tightness in his eyes.

I glanced over my shoulder to see that men were still pouring into the entrance…

And just in time to see them panic. My throat started to close when I felt a shifting under my feet, a slight vibration that seemed out of place and not a second later, a huge plum of dust erupted from the entrance to the tunnels and my stomach started to do flips within me. Even before I heard someone scream it, I knew what that meant.

We were trapped in Frankfurt with an army of Franks.