128.
128.
[Bwoooong- bwoooo-]
The horn Thorbjörn blew with all his might sounded twice, and my army, arrayed upon the field, stirred as one.
In our signal system, which held no particular complexity, two horn blasts meant to commence battle.
At times it could serve as a charge signal, at others simply an attack signal. But what it meant with certainty was that we now intended to fight the enemy.
"Soldiers of the Konungr! Forward!"
"Warriors of Helgi Ragnarsson! We move!"
[Chk! Chk! Chk! Chk!]
As assigned beforehand, Stórolf, who excelled at direct assaults, led the vanguard, and the veteran Guthrum supported from behind.
The moat and the traps beneath it had already been entirely cleared by four thousand men thrown into the work at once from yesterday's dawn until evening, but the vanguard's duty was to verify the battering ram's path forward while watching for any hidden threats.
[Shwaack- shwack-]
"Arrows!"
"Shields up!"
[Pak! Papak!]
"Return fire!"
"Make it so they dare not show their heads!"
[Pung! Pyupyung! Shwaack- shwack-]
[Hududuk!]
The enemy's arrows were too few in number to restrain us, and our own arrows, due to issues of skill, fell too short or struck the walls and lost their force, so that we feared they would drop upon our own heads instead.
Amid this grand festival of mutual archery incompetence, my army advanced—ponderously. Like the horn of a lone rhinoceros, it devoured the space bit by bit.
"Good! Jarl Stórolf has given the signal! From this moment, we take this boar to the front of those flimsy wooden gates! Is there any man here who is afraid!?"
"All such men are dead!"
"Jarl Guthrum! There is no room here, so it would be best if you withdrew!"
[Wahahaha!]
Despite his rough appearance and coarse speech, Guthrum possessed an unexpected aptitude for governance and, together with Sigebryht, ruled East Anglia well.
While Sigebryht primarily handled the administration and trade of East Anglia centered upon my direct holding of Beodericsworth, Guthrum, who had long campaigned under my brother Ivar, had naturally put that experience to use training the warriors of East Anglia and guarding the border in preparation for any potential conflict with Wessex or Mercia.
There had been an element of attaching Stórolf to him so that he might observe and learn from this stern yet benevolent commander, but seeing this, the thought occurred to me—had I not been undervaluing Guthrum too greatly?
To command the warriors' support at this level.
'A fine commander. Guthrum.'
You too are added to my list of slaves—persons of talent.
"You insolent bastards! Good! Then we move at once! Put your backs into it!"
"Yes, Jarl!"
The reason they could remain so composed while things went shwaack over their heads was not ignorance of how much an arrow wound hurt, but because they possessed a strong faith.
It was a somewhat embarrassing thing to say, but I could feel in the eyes that glanced my way a belief that they would win without fail if they were with me.
'Not an incorrect notion either.'
Because I always intended to win.
"Push on three! One—two—three!"
"Heave!"
"Hyaaat!"
"Hrrgh—!"
[Kkireuk— kkiririk— deureureuk— deureureureuk—]
The wheels, deliberately built large, seemed to resist at first under the weight of the battering ram, but soon, unable to withstand the pushing force, they turned reluctantly. Gaining speed little by little, they at last moved as though gliding over the ground packed firm by countless feet.
[Deureureuk— deureureureuk— shwaack— shwaaack— hududuk! Pak!]
[Pung! Pyupyung! Shwaack—]
The enemy archers, already insufficient in number, could not focus their attention on any single point—whether to target Stórolf's vanguard, which had already advanced to their very noses, or the slowly moving battering ram.
This naturally proved advantageous, and upon reaching the front of the fortress gate, Stórolf drew his great axe and began the incomprehensible act of... striking the gate directly to hack it down.
[Pak! Puk! Puk!]
"Open the gate! Surrender and your lives will be spared!"
"Jarl Stórolf! Your axe blade will be ruined entirely!"
"Damn it all! I thought it would be flimsy, but they built the door well! How far has Jarl Guthrum come!?"
"Ah—he is nearly here!"
"Warriors, do not lower your shields! From this moment, we escort the siege weapon!"
"Yes!"
What in the world was he doing... Had he truly meant to hack it down with an axe?
Having concentrated my attention to overhear the words exchanged by and around Stórolf, I could do nothing but shake my head, and Thorbjörn, misreading my expression, seemed anxious that his Konungr's mood might be unsettled.
Unfortunate Thorbjörn. The face that had been all smiles at the prospect of winning glory as cavalry captain had grown gaunt in the span of a mere fortnight.
But with the ground being what it was... cavalry was...
And so, forced to serve as an impromptu captain of the escort—a role that had not existed in the original plan—and to bear a sharply increased burden of duties, Thorbjörn would have to be rewarded later as well.
"What do you think, Thorbjörn?"
I asked Thorbjörn, who was profoundly tense but had little actual work to do, for his assessment of the battle unfolding before us. His brain seeming to have frozen at my sudden question, Thorbjörn produced an incongruous answer.
"This is a truly dreadful land, Konungr!"
"...That it is."
"I understand now why the people here are so terribly white! Despair at the thought of having to live one's whole life in such a place—that is what has turned them pale with horror!"
"...Hm."
The hardship had worn on him more deeply than I had imagined, it seemed.
I slipped a leather waterskin filled with ale to Thorbjörn, who was pouring out his indignation to the point of nearly shedding tears, and continued to observe the front.
Having confirmed the sturdiness of the fortress gate, Stórolf had ceased his incomprehensible challenge, his single combat, and was once more focused as a commander on controlling the shield-bearers and archers around the gate.
Meanwhile, Guthrum, who had deliberately pressed himself to the side of the battering ram and was exerting himself fiercely, was slowly advancing.
In truth, when constructing this battering ram, the part I had paid more attention to than the wheels—which were likely to break down anyway—was the roof. Thanks to the leather we already possessed, supplemented by what Boid of Kilmarnock had provided in support, we had been able to construct a truly sturdy roof.
[Hududuk— hudududuk—]
"What are our archers doing! You want to push this thing!? Shall I do the shooting!? I said shoot straight!"
[Kwajijik—]
"Jarl Guthrum! The wheel has broken!"
"Damn it!"
Of course, the warriors down there who had to push directly would be gnashing their teeth at this brutish fight... but there was no alternative until cannons appeared.
'Things are proceeding smoothly according to plan.'
I had worried whether they might resort to some mad act like pouring oil down from the walls and setting it alight, as I had seen in films and documentaries, but fortunately, the enemy seemed to lack the capacity for that.
Setting fire to a wooden fortress was an act of suicide to begin with, after all.
"Thorbjörn. The siege weapon's wheel has failed. Tell the warriors standing by to move at once."
"Yes, Konungr! Here, I drank it gratefully! Then—!"
Thorbjörn and two cavalrymen hurried off after returning the leather ale-skin to me.
I stowed the waterskin inside my coat and did not take my eyes off the battlefield for a single moment.
*****
[Kung! ... Kung! ... Kung!]
In the end, only after replacing the wheels no fewer than four times were we able to reach the enemy's fortress gate.
Through the process, countless arrows flew, but there were no great casualties.
When the battering ram finally drew near the base of the wall, the act of the enemy above lifting and hurling large stones proved a fair menace.
The foe, who had to expose their bodies fully, made a perfect target for arrows to fly and strike, and they were quickly cut down under concentrated fire—yet even so, there were among my valiant warriors those whose arms were broken by the stones that at last fell, or those who, looking up to the sky, were struck upon the head and perished.
It was difficult to control everything on the side of one's own forces on the battlefield, and casualties always occurred as a matter of course.
In fact, for an army in a siege position, our casualty numbers were absurdly low, but the hearts of the warriors who had personally witnessed the comrades right beside them fall on the field blazed fiercely nonetheless.
The momentum, which had slackened somewhat through fighting already for over half a day, revived, and the battering ram began to pound the enemy gate with terrifying mechanical rhythm.
[Thud!]
When they released the log drawn fully back by the principle of pendulum motion, the great log slammed into the gate with all its might according to the mysterious principles of science.
"Pull-!"
"Hold the rope-!"
[Thwack! Thwack!]
"Heave-ho! Heave-ho!"
[Creeeak- Creeeeak-]
"Loose!"
[Whoooosh- Thud!]
[Thwack!]
A battering ram of that size was already practically a simple building in itself. Beneath its roof, the men labored to split the enemy's wooden gate while also dodging arrows and returning fire in between.
"One- two-!"
[Creeeak- Creeeeak- Whoooosh- Thud!]
It was akin to the way a stream splits apart a great boulder by falling upon it drop by drop. It would require a long, persistent effort to overcome-
[Thud! Crack!]
"It's broken!"
"What!? Is this really working!?"
"The gate has cracked!"
[Thwack! Thw-thwack!]
"Those bastards are pouring everything they have into it! We keep returning fire as well!"
[Thwip! Thwip-thwip! Shwoooosh-]
"What are you gaping at! Pull the rope, quickly! Let's smash that door to splinters!"
"Pull!"
"One- two-!"
'...'
'Why is that working?'
[Thud! Crack!]
"How is it! Can you see anything!?"
"Nothing in particular yet!"
"Then let's hit it more! Pull again!"
Had they used soft wood for the gate? No. Given the evident care they put into digging the moat, that seemed unlikely.
"One more time!"
[Creeeeak- Creeeeak- ... Whoooosh- Thud! Crrrrack!]
Was the wood of Árós simply too strong? Had the iron cladding been that effective?
Such questions flickered through my mind, but it didn't matter right now.
The heavily cracked and caved-in gate had finally been breached, a hole punched clean through.
"Thorbjörn! Let's go!"
"Yes, yes! Konungr!"
[Shiiing-!]
I hurled away the scabbard of the two-handed sword that I had leaned against like a staff standing on the ground, and I sprinted hard.
[Pat! Ppat!]
The ground was still sticky, though somewhat less than in the preceding days. I ran along a path now nearly trampled solid by men and battering rams passing over it again and again.
"Konungr Helgi!"
"The Konungr runs! Clear the way!"
[Shwoooosh- Shwoooosh-! Thwack!]
The enemy archers desperately loosed their arrows at the sudden movement, and as our own archers returned fire upon any foe who dared expose themselves above the ramparts, no arrow reached me.
While the guards at my flanks raised their shields to block the blind shots, I darted in zigzag fashion, hiding behind the shield walls placed here and there along the long approach, and soon reached the place where the roar of battle was loudest.
"Pull-! One- two-!"
"Yaaaaah!"
"Hnngh!"
[Creeeeak- Creeeeak-]
The rope, fully loaded with elastic tension, drew taut. The battering ram, pulled back to its limit, had its iron cover bent and gashed all over.
"Loose!"
[Whoooosh- Thud! Crunch!]
The battering ram advanced relentlessly, pushing aside the surrounding air and delivering its full force of impact. At last, the wooden fragments of the gate, already cracked and holed, flew apart with the sound of splintering.
From beyond it came frantic shouts and urgent voices, and I saw eyes filled with terror.
"It's done!"
"I see them! I see the enemy!"
"Hand me something to stab with!"
Soon the fight began between those desperately trying to plug the breach and those trying to break through. When it became a matter of thrusting the longest spears each side could muster through the hole, my warriors — with better armor and larger frames — started to push back the foe beyond the gate.
[Thunk! Thunk-thunk!]
"Urgh!"
"Agh! You son of a...!"
"Stand aside!"
[Whoosh! Crunch! Crack!]
Beside them, warriors of prodigious strength like Seutorolpeu and Guthrum were using two-handed axes to cut down enemies who thrust in at our men, or to sever the shafts of hostile spears already embedded and stuck fast.
Watching that sight, I stepped into the midst of the warriors who were fighting furiously, unaware that I had even arrived.
"Who is pushing like this- Huh! Konungr!"
"The Konungr has come!"
"Konungr Helgi! Sterk!"
[Thwack! Thwack!]
[Thwip! Thwip-thwip!]
[Thunk! Thunk-thunk!]
[Slash! Crunch!]
Arrows continued to fly. Amidst the pandemonium of desperate exertions, spearheads sinking into flesh, shafts splintering, and new spikes taking their place in the gaps, I placed my hand on the shoulder of Seutorolpeu, who was drenched in sweat as he fought.
[Tap!]
"Seutorolpeu! I'll take over!"
"...! Yes! Konungr!"
He was briefly startled by my sudden appearance, but Seutorolpeu soon gave way with a bright grin.
Right beside the breach, it was a perfect spot for chopping down at the clustered shafts all jostling together.
'Hnngh-!'
I lifted the great sword with a posture honed over a lifetime and brought it down in a single stroke.
[Whoooosh- Crunch!]
A lightning slash.
"Aaaagh!"
"Gaaagh!"
Those who had been stabbing at each other or grappling for leverage with long wooden poles suddenly tumbled in the direction they had been straining. Both sides around the gate fell into chaos from the men who abruptly collapsed, but I seized that opening to survey the interior of the fortress.
'That looks like material for reinforcing the gate, and — hmm? Is that their captain?'
I could see the enemy forces waiting nervously behind the troops that had been blocking the gate. Among them, the man in ornate armor at the very front was also visible.
'Just wait.'
"Seutorolpeu! Axe!"
"Yes! Konungr!"
Without taking my eyes off his pale face, I shouted loudly and extended my left hand. Seutorolpeu placed his axe into my palm.
"Wha... what are you doing! Stop him! I said stop that devil!"
Perhaps that sight of me made an impression. The enemy commander, his entire body trembling, shouted as he inched backward. The foes who had fallen scrambled to their feet, but I had already taken my stance.
"Hragh!"
[Whoooosh- Crunch! Crunch!]
And then, with my axe-work, the hole in the gate began to be literally carved wider.
☆☆☆☆☆ Reference Material ☆☆☆☆☆
Klearchos Kapoutsis from Wrocław, Poland, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
This is a battering ram, a chungcha, at a fortress in Bulgaria! :D
British Museum, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
This appears to be a depiction of a battering ram used by the Assyrian Empire of old Mesopotamia around 865 BC. Is it just my imagination, or does this one actually look more sophisticated...? It even has wheels...!
Why does it seem like technology regressed...?
Battering rams, siege rams, chungcha. These were weapons used across East and West, ancient and modern alike! :D :D
You block with a wooden wall -> you smash it with a hammer. It's a very simple logic, after all...
Of course, hauling them around was never easy, and there are plenty of arguments about their actual effectiveness... but the one certain thing is that they were used by the people of old...!