Chapter 11: Fighting Dirty

Lachlan and I made our way through the host to where a banner fluttered indicating King Fergus' position. We found the King, surrounded by his own lieutenants and discussing tactics for the coming battle.

"Ah, mac Fergus, good timing! The High King has had us waiting and need help to convince him to commit to battle. He has been camped opposite the Norse for three days already and I grow hot for blood. Now you are here I long to advance on these accursed Danes." Fergus said as I joined his company.

"My Lord," I said as I bowed before him. "Surely he will not advance today, there is insufficient daylight left to conclude a battle?"

"No, but we will convince him to be at it early tomorrow, mark my words."

Even as he said this a messenger from the High King, Constantine arrived to re-affirm his orders to stand our ground. We were not to prepare for an early morning advance. I took my leave of the King and Lachlan and I made back towards the Knapdale men. I told him I wanted to have a look at the Norse numbers and their position.

"While I go forward to survey the Norse find me the three best fighters who are also the best deerstalkers." I told him. He looked at me quizzically. I turned away, hefting the small field pack that Kirsty had made for me so I wouldn't need to use the rucksack, and started forward to where the Norsemen were.

During the march I had been racking my brains to try and think of an advantage my twenty first-century knowledge could bring in the coming battle. There were no modern armaments that I could bring to bear; I knew nothing of explosives and how to make them - even though I seemed to remember reading a SOL story where somebody made black powder. I think I once read a Wilbur Smith book that also dealt with how to make your own gunpowder but I couldn't quite recall what it entailed. There was something about sulphur and saltpetre I knew but what else eluded me.

What had come back to me was the tactics of Britain's Special Air Service, the SAS. While I had no military training whatsoever, nor any guns or grenades, I had read countless SAS books, including a history of the regiment. I knew the philosophy that underpinned these Special Forces and I believed I could put some of it into practice now. In wartime the SAS had two primary roles: to disrupt the enemy by destroying strategic targets; and to gather intelligence through reconnaissance to help other units, like artillery or airforce, target the enemy or to help inform the leadership so that better decisions could be made.

I was hoping that I could do something along the lines of that first role: disrupt the enemy by destroying a strategic target. I had a notion that a leaderless army is a demoralised and uncoordinated army and one of the things the SAS could do was assassination. I intended to see whether it would be possible to use a small team to take-out the Norse leadership before the battle started, tonight if possible, using the cover of darkness.

Climbing a nearby rise I saw the Norse host laid out before me. It was an impressive sight. I wasn't sure how many of them there were but it was certainly many thousands, possibly as many as ten thousand. I lay down and opened my bag to get the binos out. Scanning the Norse host, I looked for any obvious signs of leadership and quite quickly was able to pick out four tents at different points amid the mass that had banners streaming from poles stuck in the ground. The vast bulk of the Norse forces stretched out in front of these tents and it seemed to me there was a chance of creeping up behind them. I lingered longer, sweeping the binos over the ground immediately behind the tents but couldn't see much more as there was a dip not much further back. Satisfied I had seen all I could, I returned to the Knapdale men and found Lachlan with two others waiting for me to tell them what was afoot.

We grabbed some food and water and sat down a little apart from the main body of men.

"What is everybody's aim when battle begins?" I asked them.

"To avoid being killed and to win, in that order." Answered Lachlan.

"Okay, but what drives a man on, drives him forward?"

"That's easy, the desire to get at the enemy's leaders and kill them if you can."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because a leaderless host is often seen as a host lacking control, in panic and on the way to being defeated."

"Exactly!" I said.

"I don't follow you my Lord."

"See you, what would the effect be on a host if they awoke in the morning to find all of their chieftains dead? All dead at once?"

"Why it would in all likelihood cause great panic my Lord. But how could that happen?"

"It will happen tonight when the four of us creep into their camp and despatch their chiefs as they sleep!"

All three exclaimed at this, their eyes full of excitement and bloodlust all of a sudden. I smiled as I saw my plan had their full approval.

"By the Saints!" growled Lachlan, "that is a plan my Lord!"

"Aye, but it will not be so easy see you, there are possibly as many as ten thousand Danes before us and they will have guards posted too."

"Guards or no guards we will make this plan of yours succeed my Lord."

"I suggest we all get some sleep now and wait for darkness. Lachlan, leave orders with the next senior captain for tomorrow in case we don't return and warn our own guards so they don't kill us!"

"Yes my Lord." He said as he walked off, a definite spring in his step.

I walked over to where my gear lay and took my own advice, wrapping my plaid around me and lying down to try and get some sleep. I tossed and turned but eventually managed to drop off only to be shaken awake again what seemed like moments later. Of course some hours had passed, as it was now dark. Lachlan and our two fellow would-be-assassins stood waiting for me to get ready.

"Off with the plaids," I told them, "no jewellery or anything else that could make a noise in the night to give us away. Now, copy me."

I took some charred wood and blackened my hands, applying the charcoal liberally all over my body. The others did likewise and soon all that stood out was the whites of their eyes and their teeth. I grinned at them and stuck my newly sharpened dirk into the waist of my kilt as I led the way into the darkness.

I took a long loop round where I estimated the main body of Norse to be, aided in this by the glow from their campfires. We moved noiselessly through the night, the only sound coming from a running stream that we crossed. Once we had gone as far as I thought we needed to, to get beyond the host, I swung northwards and we crept forward. At last I decided we had gone far enough and I turned us west. I whispered to the others that we needed to be even quieter now if possible, we needed to go slower and we needed to keep our eyes alert for guards.

The ground in front of us began to rise and I guessed this was the foot of the dip I had seen earlier through the binos. Lachlan touched my shoulder and I stopped, easing myself slowly to the ground.

"On the left, do you see?" He whispered to me, his mouth almost touching my ear.

I scanned ahead and to the left to try to pick up what he had spotted. Sure enough, there was some slight movement as a man rubbed his arms in an effort to keep warm. I nodded to Lachlan to let him know I had pinpointed the guard and he crept over to our two companions to whisper something to them. I watched as they slipped off to the side, clearly aiming to get behind the guard. Lachlan and I waited around half an hour and then we saw the Norseman pulled violently backwards, a whoosh of breath his only sound as I assumed my deerstalkers dirked him to his death.

Presently we saw our two companions creep towards us and one whispered a report.

"To easy my Lord, I've had tougher jobs trying to stalk a deer. But it looks as if we have come too far, we will need to crawl some distance to reach the first tent."

The four of us crept forward again, up the hill, faces now grim and set as the first blood had been spilt. As we reached the top of the slope I could see what he meant. The first tent was still several hundred yards away. My plan had been to start with the tent furthest away from our own camp first and work back towards the stream we had crossed. We had agreed that if we were discovered or split up, this was where we would try to meet up. Failing that we would try to make it back to our own camp.

As we neared the tent I became increasingly nervous. My mouth was dry and I continually yawned, despite the fact that I was far from tired. My stomach was churning and I had an overwhelming desire to shit. I knew I would not embarrass myself though and tried to steady myself by repeating 'tougher to survive, tougher to survive' over and over inside my head. Lachlan indicated to the others that they should hang back and keep watch. They had already drawn blood and it was now our turn.

We reached the side of the tent and I reached out my hand to test the material, finding it was a hide of some description. I was pleased at this as it would cut quietly under my sharp blade, unlikely to make a noise and give us away to the occupants of the tent. As carefully as I could I cut an opening for us and first Lachlan and then me slipped inside. The Norseman was asleep on a pile of furs, a woman by his side. I thought I could detect a smell of whisky and assumed he had been drinking, his last with any luck.