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Copperhead
04-13-2004, 00:00
Hey I thought I would post a preview of my story to see what you all thought of it.

Any feedback will be very welcome.

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Prologue

The first screams of women and children filled the air. Mail coated men streamed through the streets throwing doors open and ransacking the homes of the poor English families that inhabited the small town. Everything of any value was stolen and women were carried into the streets and raped, if they put up too much of a fight they were raped where they were found. All this was done with a savage efficiency and once everything of worth was in the hands of an invader burning torches were thrown onto the thatch through the doors to burn the humble homes to the ground.
A group of men charged down the main road spears levelled and crashed into the drunken horde that plundered the town. The first into the fray thrust with spears and hammered with shields in a futile attempt to stop the raiders wanton rape and theft. Men roared in anger and screamed in pain as they fell pray to the vicious points of spear blades and swords.
The armoured men quickly recovered drunk as they were and began to retaliate. Swords rang together and Britons began to fall. The counterattack of enraged townspeople had been ferocious but the mailed men were professional soldiers and knew their job. They parried spear and sword thrusts with their round shields and then hacked at the poorly armed attackers with their heavy swords.
The fight was short lived but bloody and one man was struggling against several armoured men. His sword flicked at an exposed neck and blood spurted from the savage wound, a spear lunged at his midriff but he glanced the blow off his shield sending the spear point to his left and his bloodied sword found a way through the mans chain mail piercing his leather tunic and burying itself in his stomach. Edward kicked the man in the stomach and hauled his sword free so that he could hack at another assailant. His blade banged against the mans shield and he had to raise his own shield quickly in order to block the axe blow that was aimed at his head. Wood splintered and he felt a great surge of pain in his left arm. The axe swung again and he stepped to his left letting the weapon hiss past his ear and bury itself in the dirt road. Looking at his enemies face he saw the look of shear terror on his face as Edwards sword blade lunged at the mans gullet. Blood sprayed and he slowly sank to the floor.
“Fall back” Edward shouted at the remaining men in the street. He heeded his own advice and ran back up the slope stopping only once to kick an enemy off one of the town’s youngsters. Together they sprinted ahead of the victorious raiders and joined the survivors of the assault.
Twelve men waited at the edge of the town facing the armoured foe forming a tight shield wall. They opened ranks to let Edward and the youngster through. The youngster carried a small hunting bow and Edward doubted if it had the power to pierce chain mail but the boy insisted on standing behind the shield wall and at least making an effort.
“Who are these bastards Tom?” his voice hoarse from shouting and screaming.
“Bastard Vikings is what they are Edward. They’ve been raiding our coasts for weeks. Bastards” The last word was shouted at the rampant men in the town.
“Why have they come here, this isn’t a wealthy town.”
“Bastards attack everything they see, or so I’ve heard. Bloody efficient bastards aren’t they Edward?”
“Bloody dead bastards if they stick around here too long.” And that was true because the moment they had been seen Edward had sent a boy on horseback to Durham to fetch the garrison and they should reinforce the small force at Easington which Edward was the commander of.
“Aye well, they’ll be long gone before Sir James gets here.” Sir James Follet was the commander of the Durham garrison and commanded over two hundred spearmen as well as sixty or so archers armed with strong yew war bows, he had never seen bowmen used in large numbers in a battle, in fact, he had never been in a battle. Not many warlords employed bowmen as they were still a very new addition to warfare and therefore most men who chose to be soldiers trained to be spearmen making good archers very hard to find. There can’t have been more than a hundred and fifty Vikings in the town and they were well on the way to being drunk and would be too busy raping and pillaging to fight back if a large force were to attack them now.
Edward was desperate to lead his men into the town for one last attack in the hope of killing some more of the murderous bastards in the town centre but he knew that it would be suicide and his attack would have no effect upon them at all. To them it would be like swatting away flies and they knew it. They paraded the towns women naked and made sure the Englishmen at the top of the road could see them being raped over and over again.
One man, who seemed to be in charge, was walking through the orgy towards Edwards’s small force followed by a small bodyguard and his standard bearer who carried a long staff decorated with a human skull. Edward assumed he wanted to talk with their leader so he stepped forward and took a few steps down the road. The man eyed Edward for a moment or two then turned his back and shouted some commands.
Dozens of men stopped plundering and marched into something that resembled a shield wall. They were so drunk that Edward suspected that his small force could break the enemy that was advancing up the street towards them. They came in four ranks, ten men abreast, forty men to swat away twelve. Edward swallowed and then told his men to advance. They were eleven men abreast and only the one rank deep. They didn’t stand a chance.
When the two forces were twenty yards apart Edward shouted, “Charge” and his doomed men sprinted forward spears aimed at the many gaps in the enemy wall. The Vikings did their best to run but they were drunk and marching uphill so they stumbled over each other and most of them had discarded their spears in the town so the Englishmen drew first blood.
A loud crash filled the air as the two shield walls collided. The Vikings front rank shoved their shields forward and hacked over their shields at the unprotected heads of the Englishmen. It was the Vikings in the second rank that fell. The English spears finding gaps in the front ranks shields and tearing at the men behind them. Edward held his shield high and pushed with all his strength to maintain enough room to manoeuvre his sword. He stabbed at the feet of his enemies dropping several before sliding backwards under the sheer pressure of the enemy formation on his men. His feet slid backwards and several of his men fell backwards to be trampled and mauled by ecstatic Norsemen. The gaps were exploited and Edward now knew that he was beaten. He was about to shout for one last great effort when a heavy blade struck him in the side of the head blotting out all sounds except the roaring in his ears. He fell to the ground in a daze and boots trampled over his body before everything went black.


Edward woke to the sound of men’s voices. His head pounded and the long wound on the left side of his head ached monstrously. Pain surged through his body as he tried to move forcing him to give up and lie still again. This time he tried to open his eyes and was surprised to succeed. Shimmering waves of light floated in his field of vision and he just made out the shapes of several men who seemed to be in animated debate before blacking out again.
When he next awoke it was to the feeling of a gritty substance falling on his body. He opened his eyes and saw men all around him shovelling soil onto his body and the pile of dead men, women and children from the town. Thrashing madly he fought himself free of some dirt and almost fell into unconsciousness again but fought the temptation to close his eyes and continued his lethargic efforts until some of the men saw him and came to his aid.
“What the hell happened here lad?” a commanding voice spoke as Edward was dropped onto the ground next to the mass grave. A response was ready in his head but the only sound he made when he tried to give it to the voice was a small grating wheeze. This caused him to cough violently and his body strained as he writhed in agony. Soil must have found it’s way into his mouth in the pit and he threw it up along with his breakfast and lunch. On his hands and knees he forced himself to give the man an answer.
“Bastard Vikings” was all he managed to expel before another coughing fit racked his body.
“We know it was Vikings, there’s enough of them dead in the town. Tell us what bloody happened you stupid boy,” a new voice rasped and was followed by a sharp kick in the gut.
Edward rolled onto his back and groaned at the shock of being attacked by his own countrymen. Another kick struck him in the side and he cried out at the pain.
“Leave that man be, John He’s one of ours” the strong voice sounded again.
“Bastard Vikings came, killed us all The bastards raped everyone, they stole everything and there was nothing we could do to stop them” Edward tried to shout but could only manage a hoarse croaking.
“Don’t worry boy, you put up a good fight…”
“I’m no boy, I commanded the militia here” his voice was returning now and he could add vehemence to his words.
“Did you now? How many men you command?”
“Thirty spearmen,” Edward was ashamed of his small command. He wanted to be a warlord, like Sir James Follet. He wouldn’t have lost the fight, even if he had been outnumbered like he was. Sir James would have killed them all. Bastards.
“How many Danes?”
“Hundreds” Edward exaggerated.
“Well well, didn’t we put up a good fight eh? On your feet lad.”
It was several attempts before Edward was standing on shaky feet, he had to use a fallen spear in order to keep his balance and even then he swayed like a tree in a gale. He looked upon his inquisitor and saw that it was Sir James. A nearby spearman had to leap forward and catch him when he tried to salute his liege lord with the spear.
“No need to salute lad. I can see you’re not well. Nasty gash that is, come back to Durham and one of my men’s women will see to it. Got to give you a position due to your rank, I do believe you will command threescore of my spearmen. One of my commanders died recently, fighting that bastard Osbert. We’ll give him a bloodied nose soon, don’t you worry about that. So lad, you want to be in my forces, give you a chance to fight Vikings on equal terms…”
“Yes lord, I would be honoured to be part of your army,” Edward was astonished, he gawped at Sir James for a few moments then tried to speak again, “I will need to…”
Sir James cut in as if Edward wasn’t even speaking, “You can have your choice of the Viking mail and they decided they didn’t want to take your towns horses, disagree with seafaring horses do. So take one of those and then come back to me, we’ve got some talking to do.”
“I won’t be long lord.” And with that he stumbled down the street towards the pile of Norse corpses.


Saddles creaked and sword belts jangled all around Edward as he trotted his horse near the front of the column. He rode his fathers horse and he was as at home on horseback as he was on foot. Decked out in a fine mail coat that hung to his knees, a pair of thick leather gauntlets and a small piece of mail hung from his saddle, the mail was shaped to fit over a mans head and protect the cranium and neck from sword cuts but would be ineffective against a spear or sword thrust. There was an opening at the front of the balaclava, which would reveal the face so that the man wearing it would be able to see and breathe. His shield hung on his back and was decorated with the white boar of Deira, Aelles badge.
Aelle and Osbert were at war. Brothers, fighting for the title of king of Northumbria. Aelle controlled Deira and Osbert Bernicia, there was constant fighting but almost all were skirmishes or small battles between supporters of the two kings. They were still waiting for the decisive battle to occur as neither had won a crucial victory and their armies were almost equal in every way.
There was talk of a peace being made in order to combat the wave of Norsemen that were plundering the north of England but Edward doubted it would stop the constant skirmishing between the two kings warlords. Easington was near to the frontier; no more than sixty miles and Sir James was worried that a raiding party might be in the vicinity. He had no plausible reason for this only a gut instinct that tugged at the back of his mind forcing him to send a dozen of his horsemen ahead of the column as scouts. Edward noticed him constantly looking at hilltops and wooded areas as if he feared that Osberts entire army would materialize and swallow his small force up. Edward on the other hand felt quite secure; he had never been part of a marching column this size, a hundred men when put into perspective was not a very large force but as he looked round at the men riding around him all he saw were battle hardened warriors, scars decorating their faces and a cold confidence in their complacent stances. One man caught his eye and nodded giving what he thought was a reassuring smile but to Edward it was ghastly, this man was a killer, desensitised by constant border skirmishes. He looked away quickly hoping the man would forget about him but to his disappointment the soldier kicked his heels back urging his horse towards Edward.
“Want some?” the man had a deep gruff voice that sounded menacing yet gentle at the same time. Edward looked at his outstretched hand and saw a large flask that had a streak of blood stained on it.
“What is it?” Edward managed to say cautiously taking the flask from the strange man.
“Mead, nice strong mead” the man laughed.
“Oh, thank you,” said Edward as he took a deep swig from the flask. He coughed violently and said, “Jesus Christ”
The soldier laughed and took the flask back. He took a long drink from it, wiped his mouth and offered it to Edward again, “Nice stuff isn’t it eh? Man in Durham brews it, knows his ale that man does, Jesus he knows how to make a good brew”
Edward took another gulp of mead and handed it back, “No more, Jesus that has a sharp kick.”
Another rumbling laugh escaped the mans lungs as he drank some more. He offered his hand and said, “The names Stephen Kessler, I know the name sounds foreign, and it is, my father was from Bavaria I take it you are Edward… my new commander,” this last part was added with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
Edward took the proffered hand and said, “Aye, I be Edward. I suppose you don’t like the idea of being led by someone younger than you? I’m not to fond of the idea of commanding men like you, you’re all to brutish for me… not that I’m saying that you’re a brute, it’s just that my last command was men from my village and I knew them all my life… I just find this a bit daunting…”
A huge laugh burst from Stephen’s lips and he shook Edwards’s hand even harder almost toppling him out of his saddle. “Oh mercy. Me and you are going to get along just fine Edward my boy” Edward managed a nervous laugh before looking at Sir James who had stopped his horse and signalled for a halt.
“What’s going on Stephen?” Edward asked worriedly.
“Oh Jesus, don’t call me Stephen. I hate that name Call me Crafter, it’s what the lads call me, I don’t know why -”
“It’s cause he erm… makes stuff using things he picks up off enemies…” a man shouted a few ranks back down the column. Several men laughed raucously at this and Edward was a little disconcerted by this revelation about his new friend. He glanced nervously at Crafter and the man grinned broadly.
“I don’t do anything bad It’s just… I feel the need to do it, don’t ask me what I do though, I’m a bit ashamed of it…” This was followed with him bowing his head and moving his horse away from Edward.
“Come on you bastards Why have you dismounted, I never said we were staying here for a while. Get back on your bastard horses and get your bastard arses moving” Sir James shouted at his men, several of who had dismounted in order to stretch their legs. They started forward again at a steady trot along the dusty road towards Edwards new life. A new home, a new way of life, new people and above everything else a new command. Where this would take him he had no idea, only that it was what he had always wanted and now he wasn’t sure if it was what he had dreamed of. It was much better.

Chapter One

The room smelt of flowers and wood smoke. Half a dozen tulips stood in a clumsy glass jar on the mantelpiece next to an engraved iron sheet which depicted a mailed warrior holding a huge shield and mighty spear. These two ornaments were flanked by two partially burnt candles, which were pinned to heavy iron tripods. A pile of clothes lay in the middle of the room next to a chair that a set of expensive war gear was placed carefully. There was a thick shafted spear, a large shield big enough to protect most of the body and next to these items was a beautiful sword, longer than most and unlike the majority of British swords, which had wooden handles, it had an iron hilt balancing the blade almost perfectly making it much easier to wield and accurate with the thrust.
A slender arm reached from the bed and slowly lifted the sword, unused to its weight the arm buckled and the sword clattered against the floor as it was brought forwards.
“What the hell -” Edward began.
“Oh, I thought you were never going to wake up I’m not surprised either the way you performed last night” said the soft voice, next to Edwards ear.
“Go to hell woman” Edward exclaimed putting his hand behind her head and pulling her into a long kiss. He lay back on the straw mattress and closed his eyes recounting the joys of the previous night and started suddenly when he heard the rasp of a sword being drawn. A sharp point prevented him from sitting up and he opened his eyes to see his lover holding his own sword to his chest.
“You do love me don’t you?” she said.
“You know I love you,” Edward retorted knowing that she was only fooling around.
“And you are going to marry me aren’t you?” she said pulling the sword point away from his skin slightly.
“Oh now you see… the thing is Jane… I’m not so sure about that anymore…” he said, trying to be as sincere as possible. He failed.
“Don’t talk like that you bastard” Jane exclaimed jabbing him gently in the stomach with his sword. He yelped in shock and knocked the sword out of her hands. She screamed with laughter as he grabbed her and threw her onto the bed, he climbed on top of her and kissed her on the forehead. He gazed into her eyes and said, “I love you Jane Penn, and I always will”
“I love you too Edw – oh my” and with that, the sword was forgotten and people passing in the street smirked knowingly and laughed at the creaking bed.

“Edward Edward Listen here you lazy excuse for a pile of shit Stop fucking the bakers daughter and get out here now It’s more important than you blowing your load”
“Is he always that vulgar?” Jane inquired.
“You know as well as I do that Crafter is normally a very polite and courteous gentleman and would never talk in this manner unless drunk or very angry. But on a serious note he only ever wakes me up at this time if there’s a fight going on in the town centre that he can’t for some unknown reason sort out, or… there is enemy about.” With that last thought he leapt out of bed ran to the window and threw the shutters open. He was confronted by Crafter dressed in full war gear, holding the reins of both his horse and mine.
“All right, all right You can stop hammering on the fucking door What’s the bloody problem?” Edward yelled at him.
“That bloody bastard Eustace is riding through our land. He’s gone too far on his raid though. If we ride now we can cut him off five miles from here. Hurry” Crafter snarled but then laughed when he noticed Edwards’s nudity, “Been giving her a good seeing to have we Edward? Been giving her a taste of the Blacksmiths skills with his personal weapon?”
“Piss off I’ll be out in a minute,” and with that he slammed the shutters closed and clambered into his armour. First came the thick leather trousers and woollen shirt, then came the knee length leather tunic, which was in turn hidden by a coat of expensive mail taken from a wealthy Viking. Edwards sword belt was then fastened round his waist with a plain iron buckle. He slung his shield over his shoulder, put on his mail balaclava and picked up his prized sword and thrust it into its scabbard. On his way out he grabbed his spear, kissed Jane goodbye and in what had seemed like two minutes but was in reality more like thirty he was on his horse and riding to his band of spearmen, all of whom were wearing full war gear in expectation of a fight.
Since the sack of Easington he had fought savagely against Aelle II enemies and against Viking raiders. His fame had spread and men from around Northumbria had flocked to his banner, increasing the number of troops at his command from the sixty that Sir James had put him in command of to over one hundred and fifty and all were ruthless in their quest for victory. He had been so successful that Sir James had given him almost free rein and his band of men soon became feared by their enemies and awed by their allies.
This however, did not stop the constant raiding by followers of Osbert and by Mercian and Viking soldiers. Everyone wanted a part of the Northumbria, thinking it was ripe for the picking as two of the most powerful men in Britain fought for the kingdom. Both the Vikings and the Mercian’s knew that once the civil war was over that the winner would be very weak indeed, and then Northumbria would be an easy target to add to their domain.
On this day, Edward was simply riding out to intercept a raiding party sent by Lord Eustace, one of Osberts leading supporters and one of his most powerful as well. Refugees from the towns he had sacked and pillaged told of a raiding party over two hundred strong but Edward knew that peasants were prone to overestimating numbers of enemy troops and you could almost always calculate how many enemies you were facing by simply halving the number that they gave you.
Thus Edward and his troop of Blacksmiths rode out of Durham with confidence and also anxiousness for it was very uncommon for a raiding party to be caught and engaged. In most circumstances they were gone before any soldiers could be mobilised, but this time, Eustace had ridden too deep into Deira and had bivouacked thirty miles from his own land leaving him open to ambush on his return journey.
Edward’s men had gained the nickname ‘the Blacksmiths’ due to Edwards’s tactics in combat. When fighting Edward hardly ever lunged he simply hacked madly at his enemies and this had earned him the name the Blacksmith Sir James who joked that when he saw Edward fighting it was like watching a blacksmith hammering at a lump of iron. He had adopted this and had paid a local man to decorate him and his men’s shields with a black anvil and hammer.
Crafter rode alongside Edward and they cantered along the road in silence. Their men boasted of how many men they were going to kill, while others drank flasks of mead in an attempt to get drunk in preparation for the fight while others rode in silence thinking the same thoughts over and over again. Were they going to win? If so, how many would die? Would they be one of the dead?
Edward ordered a dozen men to ride ahead and scout the land ahead, to find a good place to intercept Eustaces men. They galloped up the road and disappeared into a small group of trees.
A sudden burst of shouts of anger and screams of pain carried through the air to be heard by the Blacksmiths. They sped up to a fast canter and snarled threats and gripped weapons as they rode towards the sound of vicious fighting. Two men galloped at breakneck speed out of the trees towards the column of horsemen. Edward halted his men and greeted the two bleeding men.
“Bastards ambushed us There are hundred of the bastards sir. At least two hundred. Eustace is there as well.” So the peasants had been right Edward thought, and Eustace, he would make a very nice prize to bring back to Sir James.
“All right men Dismount. Crafter, you take command of fifty men and stay on your horses. The rest of you get off your horses and form a shield wall”
“What do you want me to do with my mounted men sir?” Crafter said to Edward.
“Once our shield walls are engage, ride round their rear and charge into the back of their men. They will probably have some mounted men of their own so dispose of them before you attack the infantry,” commanded Edward as he climbed out of his saddle and fastened the straps of his shield around his arm. He saluted Crafter with his spear and walked to the centre of the long line of spearmen.
A hundred men he calculated. Four ranks deep, that is twenty-five men in each rank. Not a long enough line, it would have to be three ranks deep making it thirty-tree men in each rank. He made his wishes be known and then settled himself on the ground at the centre of his line.
For ten minutes he didn’t think Eustace wanted to fight and was considering mounting up and going after them when as if by magic a huge shield wall emerged from the trees. It was about fifty men in each rank and was four ranks deep, two hundred spearmen and he had a small contingent of mounted men walking their horses behind the infantry.
Despite the obvious numerical disadvantage that Edward’s men faced, he was confident of victory. He stood and faced his men.
“Look, the bastard thinks he can beat us Us Who does he think he is? We are the Blacksmiths What are we going to do to him?”
“Kill the bastards” “Murder him” and “Boil his arse” were among the responses that were roared past Edward at the approaching enemy spearmen.
“Aye, if that be the case then let them hear you” Edward shouted trying to compete with the noise his men were making. They were used to the speech and they knew what he wanted them to do so they started before he had told them to.
They put their spears on the ground and drew their swords. They then pounded the hilts or blades of their swords against the faces of their shields and shouted insults at the enemy. Daring them to come and face their spears, begging them to come and meet death. Edward loved this tactic. It always unnerved fresh troops and often caused discomfort to even the most experienced of soldiers.
The two sets of men were soon only a hundred paces apart and Edward ordered his men forward. Swords were either sheathed or held by the blade in the left hand, letting the shield hang by its straps and spears picked up. The noise instantly started again as the Blacksmiths began to bang their spear shafts against their shields and started to march forward.
Fifty paces and Edward still didn’t order the noise to stop or for his men to speed up. Eustace’s men had been ordered to march quickly at over seventy paces but Edward didn’t want to tire his men, they were dressed in full armour and would get tired quickly if they ran or even jogged.
He glanced behind him and saw Crafter leading his horsemen round his shield walls right flank in column. As he turned to look at the approaching enemy spearmen he saw his horsemen stop, form a tight line; two ranks deep and then suddenly start forward forcing their mounts into a very fast canter. He looked forward and saw Eustace’s cavalry racing towards Crafter but in a ragged mass rather than an ordered charge.
When he looked back at the enemy shield wall he saw that they were only twenty paces away and he made sure his shield was overlapping the shield to his left and raised his spear while shouting, “Charge” he dropped his spear into a horizontal position and got ready to thrust forward at the last moment.
He ran forward as did the enemy closing the distance in seconds. Moments before the shields collided Edward pushed his spear at a gap in between two enemy shields. Two other spears were aimed at that gap but Edward was directly in front of the gap and his spear point buried itself in an enemy body as the shield walls clashed with a resounding crash.
To gain a little space he pushed frenetically at the shield in front of him and when he realised his spear was stuck in the mans body he released it and grabbed the handle of his sword and took it from his left hand so that he could take hold of his shields handle and hack at the legs of the spearmen ahead of him.
Seconds after cutting the mans leg he was pushed by the soldier behind him onto the enemies shields. Trying to push the enemy backwards. He held his shield high to protect his head and chest while he took his sword in his left hand again and drew his seax from the belt behind his back and began to hack under his shield at the stomach and legs of his enemies. The seax is a large knife for which is what gave the Saxons their name and it was still used in modern times. It was used more as a tool nowadays, for cutting wood into kindling and for cutting food up. Edward still used it in battle when necessary and it was proving a useful tool as at such close quarters he could still use his weapon whereas those in the front ranks of any shield wall who were wielding a sword or spear it would be impossible to move sufficiently to actually use your weapon to attack the enemy.
Swords and axes hacked at him, most catching the top edge of his shield but occasionally he would receive a glancing blow to the head or shoulders but never anything serious. Edward finally managed to work his knife into a gap between the mans thick leather breastplate and belt and pushed the knife forward twisting it savagely in an attempt to fell the man.
The enemy soldier suddenly collapsed and Edward ripped his seax free and pushed it into his belt. He grabbed his sword and charged into the gap made by the dead man. He hacked at an axe man deflecting the axe blow to the left with his shield and feinting a slash to the right only to bring it round suddenly and cut to the left breaking the mans shoulder. The axe fell to the ground from nerveless fingers and Edward pushed the man backwards with his shield throwing him off balance and then finishing him with two swift blows to the head.
A sword hacked at his back but his chain mail would never be pierced by a sword cut so it simply pushed Edward forward. He hacked left and right with his sword, always holding his shield tight against his body. Just when he thought the two shield walls must draw apart to regroup he saw an opening and launched himself at it, forcing the gap with his shield and hacking at the young mans neck until he collapsed in a bloody pile. Edward leapt through the gap made by this mans death and saw only one man between him and open ground. This man however was not going to be an easy nut to crack.
Racing forward he held his sword upright ready to suddenly lift it and bring a crashing blow against the mans head but was forced off balance by a surprise thrust from a spear which would have pierced his stomach had his instinct reaction not been to lower his shield slightly as he charged. The spear point buried itself in the willow boards and Edwards’s enemy couldn’t free it so he released his grip on it and drew his sword. He charged at Edward and hacked and stabbed frantically hoping to overwhelm him with a frenzy of blows but his attacks were skilfully defended by Edwards strong left arm. He was about to strike down the tired enemy when he noticed a long line of cavalrymen spreading along the rear of Eustace’s line. Then it was all over.


Crafter watched Edward marching forward and smiled when he saw his friend raise his spear and wave his men forward. The rending crash of two shield walls colliding forced him to flinch as he rode round the infantry’s flank.
Raking his heels back he forced his horse into a gallop and raising Edwards banner of the hammer and anvil he shouted, “Charge” and levelled the standard that was basically a spear with a flag on and held his shield across his body, he took the reins in his teeth and guided his horse with his legs.
The enemy horsemen came in a ragged mass and his troop stayed in formation till the last second. Aiming his spear for the nearest soldier’s horse he lunged and the spear glanced off the leather trapper and buried itself in the ground. This served just as well as spearing the horse as it toppled the horse and threw the rider. He left the broken spear in the ground and drew his sword. A snarling man rode towards him spear levelled but Crafter simply nudged the spear aside with the slightest touch from his shield and then cut across the mans body with his sword. The blade cut open a large wound in his adversary’s face sending him flying backwards from his horse.
His men had ridden clean through the enemy troop and had killed almost half of them and dismounted the rest, several of his own men had fallen but these were trained horsemen unlike the enemy who were spearmen told to fight on horseback, they weren’t trained to fight on horseback apart from how to cut down a fleeing infantryman with a sword.
Mud was thrown up as horse were turned and forced into a gallop to enable the horsemen to attack what was left of the enemy cavalry troop. It was short work and Crafter quickly reorganised his men and rode round the rear of the enemy line and saw Lord Eustace with his personal guard of heavy horsemen.
Eager to gain riches through ransom and glory through battle Crafter led his men towards the opposing leader but was disappointed when Eustace seeing the battle was lost turned his horse and fled the battlefield with his bodyguard leaving his raiding party to be slain to captured by Edward the Blacksmith.
A huge smile showed on Crafter’s face as he ordered his men into a line, he didn’t care how spaced out the gaps were as long as they weren’t over five feet and then he ordered his men forward. They galloped into the rear of the abandoned infantry and hacked desperately at the unprotected backs of the spearmen until Edward was seen waving his sword and shield and calling for his men to take prisoners.
Crafter looked around the battlefield and saw scores of Osberts prime spearmen disarmed and broken while dozens more lay dead in the mud. He noticed Edward picking up his spear and rode over to him.
“Hey Edward, I thought you might want to mark your victory,” Crafter said tossing a muddied flag at his leader. Edward caught the flag and unfurled it. He smiled when he saw that it was his banner and tied it to the staff of his spear. Once it was secure he thrust it into the ground and made sure it was firmly in place.
“Jesus Christ almighty That was hot work, took a while to break that wall. And you didn’t exactly get into it like lightning did you Crafter? What do you reckon? Is this a big enough victory to give Sir James an advantage if he attack that pig Eustace?”
“I had to bloody fight their cavalry you thick headed bastard What do you expect me to do? Ignore them and get myself speared in the back just so I can save your miserable hide? It’s not like you needed my help anyway, you were close to breaking that shield wall with just your infantry” Crafter exploded at Edward and his fury forced Edward to hold up his hands as if to fend off the words.
“It was a joke my dear friend. Naught but a joke. Let’s just act as if I hadn’t said that and get drunk I’m sure that Eustace had plenty of drink amongst all that plunder. What do you say we go find it? Does that sound good to you?”
“It certainly does sir, it certainly does. Oh before we go, do you reckon that was my victory or yours?”
“Shut up you bastard… it was mine of course” exclaimed Edward laughing as he mounted his horse.

-------

It is set in 865 AD during the Northumbrian civil war when The Great Viking Army attacks britains coast and forces Aelle II and Osbert to unite. Tell me what you think

Ludens
04-16-2004, 18:38
Welcome to the Mead Hall Copperhead. It seems you have chosen a bad time to post your story. There is a lot of competition right now. But what exactly will be your story? Or are you just going to describe the battles Edward fights?

Copperhead
04-16-2004, 23:28
It all leads somewhere, not sure yet. I'm hoping to make a trilogy, the first follows Edward in his participation in the Northumbrian campaign against the Great Viking Army. It's got a sub plot to make it interesting rather than just a straight fight scene. Don't want to give too much away as of yet. The second will be a time of peace, more of an adventure for Edward and the third will be the thrilling climax. It is still mostly ideas.

Ludens
04-17-2004, 17:57
The problem is the story seems to be lacking a theme. Some kind of quest to complete or a great danger to face. Just describing the battles, as you mainly did in the preview, does not make a story. You should make the theme more obvious. Explain to the readers what Edward's motivation is, and things like that.


Quote[/b] ]It is still mostly ideas.
A story usually starts that way. Only when you work on it, it grows. Good luck with writing http://www.totalwar.org/forum/non-cgi/emoticons/bigthumb.gif

Copperhead
04-18-2004, 01:18
I have almost completed chapter two, all will be revealed, well, i say all, i mean most...