Chapter 11

We sat on the beach and listened to the dying and wounded men. Every muscle in my body was aching. Jarun sat next to me, his right hand wrapped in cloth as his fingers bled. Osgood plonked himself down and exhaled.

“That was fucking tough,” he said as he tossed his battered shield to one side.

I saw Kleng walking toward me, his face a mask of blood. He dropped to the sand. I saw that he had a cut that went from the corner of his mouth to the side of his eye. Blood was oozing out of it.

“Well Uthred we won,” he said as he cut some cloth from his tunic and held it to his face.

“Yes we did my friend, but at what cost?” I replied.

Later that day I walked around the beach, I saw men I had known and counted as friends that had been killed in the battle. Both sides lost good men that day. I watched as eight men held Kleng down as another used a hot sword to cauterise his wound. The smell of burning flesh stung my eyes, his screams stung my ears.

There were too many dead bodies to bury and I was sure some of the wounded would not last a day or more. We made camp, fires soon had food cooking. We slept that night and no guards were posted. We felt no need, we were sure the Saxons would not have the nerve to attack again.

The following day we awoke to bright sun, high in the sky. We looted the dead of both sides, arm rings were chopped off. Coins looted and weapons were taken. Around midday, I called for the men to board the ships. We had arrived on the little island with just over three hundred men and we let with less than two hundred. Three hundred Vikings against a mighty Saxon army of over twelve hundred and we had won.

The journey home took four days and we landed just after midday. Rosie and Matilda met me on the beach and were happy to see me. Many women and children left the beach that day not as happy as their menfolk did not return. I gave the Celts the option to leave us and go home, each was given gold coins, and they decided to stay with us. It was good to have archers I thought. I gave Jarun two armbands and he went off to find his father.

We talked of the great battle for many evenings, well into the winter when our boats had been pulled up the beach tales of the battle echoed around campfires.

I spent the winter training an army of lads, Jarun taught them how to use the bow. Osgood taught them swordcraft and I taught then tactics. Rosie and Matilda both presented me with children that winter; a boy who was named Uthredson and girl I called Lucille.

The harsh northern winter kept us in our village and kept the Saxons at bay. It was the next spring before I saw Kleng again, he sailed into the little natural harbour one cold spring morning and jumped from the prow of his ship. We embraced and he punched me hard on the arm.

“So Uthred you survived the long winter, “he said as I led him to the feasting hall. Servants laid out beer and food for us.

“Yes, Kleng!” I said, “So what brings you here?”

I watched as his finger traced the deep red scar that cut across his cheek.

“I have you heard of the Kingdom of Cornwall?” he asked, I nodded.

“There are churches full of gold to be had there Uthred, “he said as he chewed on a chicken leg.

“Your uncle gave me a ship and its crew for my reward for the battle,” he told me proudly.

“And...” I said ripping bread from a loaf.

“And I think that between us we can go and take some of that gold!” he laughed.

After the excitement of the battle against lord Aldwyn and his Saxon army life in the village seemed to have left me with a hollow feeling inside. I called for the slaves to fetch Osgood, Jarun and Gudvær and we laid out our plans for our trip to Cornwall. Perhaps one day I will share that tale with you!

...

Our victory on the beach at the village of Aldwynton became legendary, poets wrote about it, minstrels sang about it. Where ever we went we heard talk of it. Even twenty years later when Kleng and I were visiting a tavern in London we overheard a drunken Viking tell the landlord and his cronies about how he had led the archers at the battle of Aldwynton. The man was found later that evening with his throat slashed, dead in the alley behind the tavern.