CK II The Old Gods - From Greatness

[JasonPratt]

I have a real hard time with the lack of high ranking Norse females eligible for marriage

A real-life problem of mine, come to think of it...  :-\

[undercovergeek]

In the grounds of the castle at Wessex is a meadow, and in that meadow in the north east corner is a small hill. On top of the hill is a tall oak tree, full and round of branch that has stood the test of time and nature. Through two hundred years, beneath its boughs and about its trunk it has witnessed the marriage of Kings and Princes of the Wessex clan, and on this clear and crisp January evening it bears witness to another, but not one like this before. Standing in the meadow with the wedding guests and dignitaries were four thousand men at arms, waiting impatiently, the gold cross of Dorset fluttering amongst their number, the blue of Wessex and the blue and gold of West Mercia.

Siweard the priest raised his hands in the air, his cloaked frame outlined by the fading sun

'Alfred, Earl of Dorset, son of Wessex, Gisele, Daughter of Itlay' he cried, 'Your day is done. Hand bound you are, of heart and soul and you have lived the day as one. Your time of choosing has come. Will you bind yourselves for eternity, or shall the ties be cut?'

Alfred and Gisele looked at each other and raised their bound hands into the air as one. 'We shall be bound, one to the other, and live our lives as one'. A cheer erupted from the multitude and Siweard stepped forward, taking their bound hands in his.

'Speak your oath' cried the priest

'Gisele of Apulia, Daughter of Italy' Alfred began, 'I promise to you the food upon my table, the fire in my hearth.....'

Cynehelm walked among the men of Dorset, talking to the warriors, sharing a drink or a pipe by a fire, laughing at the tales of one group. He tried to allay their fears, calm their nerves, as soon as the celebrations were over they would march for the North. They were eager to march and truth be told he wanted to be under way himself. He sighed. Why must these damn ceremonies be so long? He glanced to the top of the hill where Siweard was beginning to sing the closing benediction. He held aloft a chalice, the couple taking it with their bound hands. They both drank, and Siweard cast the chalice to the ground and crushed it.

'It is done' he cried, and there was more cheering, the musicians began and the celebrations commenced in earnest.

Aethelred found Alfred on the other side of the oak tree, on one knee kissing Gisele's hand

'I will return my love, keep safe', he rose and nodded to his brother

'To war'

[Martok]

Ah, a wife is found at last.  Huzzah! 

[undercovergeek]

Cynehelm squinted at the battlefield, it was hard to make sense of the chaos. In a field amongst the misty valleys of Lancaster the Vikings were dealing out death with breathtaking ferocity. Everywhere he looked he saw the bearded, fair haired Danes laying about Aethelred's army with their axes and hammers, the warriors of Wessex and Mercia struggling desperately to reorganise themselves. To his right Alfred was on his knees, his breathing laboured.

'What shall we do' Cynehelm asked his Lord

'Take the men down there' Alfred pointed to the fringe of the forest where the Viking line was thinnest, 'before the day is lost'

'Aye' grunted Cynehelm, 'will you be safe?'

'I will' said Alfred, 'I will take the Somerset company and strike the centre'

'Make for the Boneless' called Cynehelm, 'and we will meet you in the middle'

Cynehelm and his company jogged down the field, splashed through the stream skirting the forest, and led his men over a moss covered wall, collapsed to rubble and slowed as they approached the flank of the Viking line. He lifted his shield and felt the man to his right's shield thud into his, the shield wall going up around him. He drew his sword and as one the four hundred and twenty warriors of Dorset began to make their way towards the Vikings.

The first Norsemen fell almost silently as the shield wall smashed into them, dozens of short stabbing swords darting out and finding targets, but a bellowed death cry from a falling Viking captain alerted others to the danger. Suddenly heavy blows were slamming into Cynehelm's shield and he almost went down. Further down the line the Vikings were turning to face them, seeing the threat to their flank, they were withdrawing from the main conflict in the middle and regrouping to meet Cynehelm's shield wall head on. Even as he watched, they let out their war cries and began charging towards the company, hundreds of them, axes and hammers held high.

The Norsemen crashed into the shield wall, hammering and beating against the wood and iron of the shields. The man to Cynehelm's right went down, a hammer blow snapping his arm and then his skull. The man to his left staggered back but held, others in the front row were pulled forwards by the strength of the Danes' axes buried in their shields, then hacked to pieces by beserking Vikings. The line was trembling, on the verge of turning.

'Hold!' shouted Cynehelm, not knowing if anyone heard, the din of battle around him deafening. He stabbed forward, grunting as his shield arm numbed from the blows raining upon it. He lost all track of time, only aware of his burning shield arm and the ragged breaths he drew. Suddenly the pressure against the shield was gone, he looked over the rim to see none of their attackers still standing and hearing the cheering of the Somerset Company to his right, though by the sound of it, the battle still raged hard further away where Aethelred and Burghred fought.

Alfred was there, blood covering one side of his face from a cut to his temple. He grinned at Cynehelm, and the big man felt himself smile in return, a measure of strength returning to him. The shield wall was reformed and Alfred's men moved deeper towards the Viking rear where the banners of Ivar the Boneless could be seen. Slowly and inexorably the Vikings here were either cut down or pushed back and the ground grew thick with the fallen. They came to dense ring of warriors, bristling with swords and spears being assaulted by Norsemen, but they were soon cut down as the shield wall closed on them from behind. Eastmund, Aethelred's Marshal was at the centre of the ring, standing over the King who lay pale faced and semi-conscious, wounded by a hammer blow that had crushed his shoulder.

'It is time we withdrew brother' suggested Alfred, 'there will be another day to win this fight, we are outnumbered, you are hard hit and there are Danes to the rear'

'Aye Little Prince, you are right' said Aethelred 'order our withdrawal, get our men home safe, you have done well this day and earned your scars, you have made me proud'

Slowly and steadily the army of Wessex withdrew from the field, defending their flanks and holding off any harrying attacks from the Vikings. Two thousand of Aethelred's army littered the field, three thousand Viking, in the end the army of Wessex had simply run out of men to defeat the Danes

[undercovergeek]

November 867

'Well, at least its a pretty badge!' quipped Cynehelm

'Master of the Hunt? Master of the Hunt! What is he thinking?' said Alfred, flicking the small, jewelled deer's antlers badge on his tunic, 'The North is falling, our armies beaten, its bound to be Mercia next, then East Anglia and then us, and he's throwing parties.

'Come, follow me' Cynehelm beckoned Alfred, 'The castle walls have ears, walk with me'

Alfred sighed and followed Cynehelm deep into the castle grounds, 'What is it friend?'

'You're a clever boy, yes?', Alfred glanced at Cynehelm with a disapproving look

'Let me finish.... I can only assume you're aware that the wailing babe in his wife's arms is his son................... and heir?'

'I will not engage in your silly games Cynehelm, speak your mind and have done with it'

'Up until a small number of days ago you were heir to all Wessex, now he has a son, and he will be heir. Do you renounce your claim that easy? Do you give away your father's hopes and wishes that easy?' said Cynehelm

'I hadnt really thought about it, he is my brother, and his son is my nephew, i had paid no heed to the succession'

'Then understand this' Cynehelm said, his eyes narrowing, 'your brother has, and so too his advisors, every autumn Saints day, every feast day and every celebration you will be sent to the forest to bring back the biggest stag or meanest, nastiest boar. What better to way to prevent a succession crisis than to have the senior claimant gutted by The Blue Boar? He's done for many a hero before now, better hunters than you'll ever be'

'You're a cynical old fool' snorted Alfred

'You mark my words Little Prince, he will see to his line and feed you to the forest'



April 868

'Oh God, I can't believe we're here again' muttered Cynehelm

Alfred tried to hide a smile behind a false scratch of his nose

'Couldn't you have sent me to the East to spy on technology like you did Leofweald?' Cynehelm continued

Alfred cleared his throat loudly and glanced at his Marshal, his face was like thunder but his eyes sparkled with humour. Cynehelm winked at him and they both turned to listen to the rest of Mannix's report from the North. They were indeed at Wessex again, summoned like all his southern banner men by Aethelred to hear reports from the North. It had been a year since the armies of Wessex and Mercia had been kicked out of Northumbria. In that time the whole of the North had fallen, in the east of the region a false King had been seated on the throne at Yorvik, King Egbert. King by name but a mere puppet to serve Viking masters. His armies were at the Dane's disposal and he had no power at all, through the centre and to the west of the region there had been no opposition, and the North had fallen much easier than Aethelred and Burghred had hoped. Mannix's eyes and ears in Jorvik's last report bore witness to a fleet of dragon ships been massed on the river Ouse, but he couldnt tell whether the coast of Mercia or the coast of Edmond's East Anglia was next.



May 868

'Brother, I beg of you, do not commit our armies to East Anglia' pleaded Alfred

On a warm, spring night on top of the moors between Dorset and Wessex where wild ponies still ran in herds, four men met on horseback. Cynehem held a flaming torch, as did Eastmund next to Aethelred and their two Lords were in disagreement.

'Edmond can field fourteen hundred men, brother. The Boneless marches south with eight thousand, Mannix has told you this. Out to sea and approaching The Wash is another one thousand under the command of Ubba. What you propose is madness, to ally our Kingdom to East Anglia invites the Danes to simply roll through East Anglia and into Wessex, my Lord'

'Our Kingdom is it little brother? Do you see this gold on my head? And when I have thrown every last Viking back into the sea or died trying, my last action will be to pass it to my son'

'I....' attempted Alfred

Aethelred raised a gloved finger, just as he had when Alfred was a small boy, to stop his argument and mock him. Now as then it made Alfred fume, his knuckles tightened and the leather straps he was holding creaked in protest

'I will see your men at arms at Wessex in five days, little brother' Aethelred looked into Alfred's eyes for a second, then he turned his horse and set off back towards home with Eastmond just behind.

Cynehelm sighed and looked at Alfred, 'he will kill us all'

[Martok]

'geek, I would just like to congratulate you on making me want to strangle Aethelred with my bare hands!  Well done.  ::) 

[undercovergeek]

thanks Martok, i really, really dislike him

[undercovergeek]

August 868

Aethelred sat on a low stone wall along the the side of the church, his head in his hands. He was trying to ignore the buzzing of hundreds of flies as they circled the heap of corpses piled up at the church door. St. Judes church was famous in all Wessex for being built right on the border between Essex and Suffolk. It was said that when she was martyred, St. Judes body was torn in half by two great shire horses, one from north of the border, one from the south and it was divided between the two counties, to honour this the church was built here.

'Well I'd take that as fair warning as to what comes next', grumbled Estmond 'they've gone for now but theyre definitely coming back for Wessex' he spat into the ground

Aethelred sniffed, 'Its rumoured' he said, 'that the Vikings always leave one survivor to tell of the horror theyve witnessed and of the terror to come'

'That'll be the screaming boy from Suffolk' said Estmond dismissively 'took them two days to calm him down, all full of tales about Edmond's army being attacked from the sea and how they filled him full of arrows to see if God would come and save him'

'He should never have burnt their boats' added Cynehelm, 'Nothing makes a Viking more angry than burning his boats'

King Edmond had attacked the Vikings as they were disembarking in the shallows of The Wash, he massacred four hundred Danes and put thirty dragon ships to the torch. It was then a messenger rode up to him and told him two thousand Vikings had landed behind him and were marching to meet him. He met them on the plains of East Anglia near a village called Diss and met shield wall to shield wall, but outnumbered and with a further five hundred vengeful Vikings heading to him from The Wash he had cut his losses and headed to the monastery, and awaited the Boneless. There the Boneless slew Edmond, bartering that if his God saved him, he and his army would be converted to Christianity, no God came and Edmond was dead. Aethelred and the army of Wessex were still marching when news of the defeat came to them, they were too late.

'We never raised a sword in anger' said Estmond, 'maybe hes gone home to plan for Mercia'

Alfred stepped slowly and deliberately toward Aethelred, menacingly enough for Estmond to put a hand on the hilt of his sword. 'This pile of stinking death here' Alfred said pointing to the corpses, 'Monks, nuns, children and women, piled right on the border of East Anglia and Wessex says exactly where he's coming next!' shouted Alfred, 'and its all your fault, you stubborn, idiotic, proud fool'



November 870

The army of Wessex marched home that day, its soldiers returned to their farms and smithies and for a shortwhile life returned to normal. There were tales of Dragon ship raids all along the coast, men in the cozy orange glow of country taverns would tell of the Danes appearing in the morning mist, kicking the doors of the monasteries in and making off with the church gold. Always the clergy were killed, always the church burnt and the women would be taken, and always the one horrified witness to pass on the story to the next village.

Scouts and spies were ever present on the Essex border, Ivar the Boneless himself had declared himself King of East Anglia but no Vikings came. Even through the winter the spies stayed, Alfred convincing Aethelred that the Danes could be cunning enough to come in the snow as no army had ever done before, but they never came. Mercia was untroubled, as was Cornwall, an uneasy peace had settled in the South.

Alfred concerned himself with affairs of a country Earl. Great feasts were put on in Corfe Castle and nobles from all over the South would attend, the celebrations legendary and the hangovers just as renowned. He organised hunts for Aethelred in the grounds of Wessex and organised his own hunts in Dorset and Somerset, his popularity high amongst both the nobles and the commoners. Occasionally he would receive troubling rumours that the people were beginning to call for him to be King openly in the streets, as much as he took to the people he would send out Cynehelm to quell the rebels with the least amount of violence necessary - nothing good could come of their protests. Princess Gisele, as popular with the people as her husband was, was yet to bear him a child but Alfred was not worried - there would be plenty of time for that.

The Great Autumn Feast of 870 had been planned months in advance. Corfe Castle had been dressed inside and out for the occasion, part of the grounds had been converted for horsemanship displays and hand to hand combat contests. Cynehelm and his two sons had cornered and slain the infamous Blue Boar in a hunting contest prepared by Alfred and this would be the centre piece in the dining hall. All the nobility of Wessex would be in attendance, even the Bishop of St. Swithins - the one man who would not bend to Alfred's charm and good natured hospitality. Alfred needed to sway the Bishops opinion in his favour, as it was the Bishop Cynewulf sent all his money to the Pope and Alfred could do with directing some of the gold towards his own coffers.

Aethelred tipped his cup of wine toward Alfred and nodded his head in recognition of a fine feast. At the head of the table Alfred chewed thoughtfully on boar meat, sipping from his cup. He acknowledged his brothers nod, and looked about the Great Hall of Corfe Castle. Cynehelm and his two sons were raucously recreating the hunt for a group of nobles by the fire who listened in awe at the retelling of the death of the Blue Boar. The Bishop was in discussions with a number of clergy at a table in the corner of the hall, groups of men were laughing and joking all around the hall. The band were playing fine music, and a few men and women were dancing. Estmond was sat proudly at a table with his own men, pointing to the prize he had received as winner of the combat competition, his arm around his sons shoulders as he nursed a lump on his forehead - his own prize for losing to his father in the final round.

'You should be proud' said Gisele, squeezing his hand 'you have put on an excellent feast my Lord'. Alfred always loved to hear her speak, her accent never failed to make him smile. 'I have a prize for you too' she said and placed his hand on her stomach. A wide beam spread about his face, 'More wine!' he shouted and shot up from his chair, the seat toppling over 'I am to be a father!' A great cheer went up around the hall, and the men in the hall roared with delight and raised their cups.

There was a huge boom from the South entrance to the hall as the doors flew open and a rain soaked Mannix practically fell into the hall, a gust of wind and rain coming in behind him. Men flew to his aid and sat him upright

'Speak man' commanded Aethelred

'Vikings!!!! Thousands of them'.........................

[undercovergeek]

Aethelred knelt by Mannix and leaned in close to him, 'For God's sake man, where are they?'

Mannix gasped for air, his face wet with rain, and as Alfred now saw, tears, 'Oxford my Lord, two thousand with the banner of the Boneless'

'And?' harried Aethelred

'Five thousand at Wessex under the banner of the Halfdan' sobbed Mannix, 'They came straight up the beaches my Lord, the garrison is already lost'

'Where is my family?' hissed Aethelred

'Safe my King, safe, I had them sent to London and the protection of the castle there'

'We must ride, ride for Wessex', Aethelred rose shouting, 'to Wessex, call the bannermen, summon all the levies, we ride for Wessex!'

There was chaos in the hall as everyone made for their horses and shouted instructions to men at arms and squires. Alfred nodded to Cynehelm, and he left via doors at the back of the hall to the stables. He took Gisele's hand, 'He's wrong on many things, but he is right on this one, look after our child' he placed a hand on her stomach again, 'I will be back'



'Shield wall!' shouted Alfred, and the men of Dorset and Somerset lofted their shields and interlinked them, a wall of wood and iron. Silence descended on the battlefield as both sides readied themselves. Across the down were thousands of Danes, an enormous shield wall, Danes, Spear Danes, Sword Danes and beserkers who had come to make this land their own. The Vikings broke the silence and began clashing their spears and swords against their shields and shouting towards the Dorset lines, their thunder rolling across the fields.

Alfred surveyed the lines of the enemy, he could make out the banners of the Halfdan, Ivar, his brother Ubba. There were a few scattered captured Saxon flags, the three lions of Edmond, the Blue Dragon of Wessex lost at Lancaster. Looking left he could see the line of the Wessex army being lengthened as forces entered the down. Men of Kent and Middlesex were joining the lines but they were still so much shorter than the Danish lines. The clattering of thousands of weapons on shields continued.

'Shield wall!' the shout was taken up all down the Wessex lines as they prepared for the attack.

'Forward!' Aethelred shouted

'Forward!' repeated the Earl of Middlesex, he had been chosen with his six hundred men to lead the attack. The men of Middlesex shuffled forwards a few paces and the Danes called their for their own shield wall, they clattered and locked together and the sight of so many shields and spears stopped the advance. The Vikings lowered the shield wall and roared their mockery and taunts at the stalled line.

'Forward! Come on you men!' shouted the Earl, he was mounted and with his sword drawn rode up and down the line shouting at his men to advance. Slowly the line began to advance and the Danish shield wall rose again. Seeing this Alfred urged his men forward to bolster the lines of Middlesex and strengthen their resolve

'Forward men of Dorset, steady, be strong' and the disciplined ranks stepped forward until they were in line with the others. The Earl nodded to Alfred and dismounted, slapping his horse on the rear and it sped away to the rear of the Wessex line.

'Now, forward!' shouted the two commanders in unison and the lines shuffled forward. The two forces were close enough now to see each other, each man could see the man he must kill, or be killed by. Both sides were now spitting anger and insults and the spear throwers hefted their first volley of missiles.

'Shields close' shouted Alfred, his shield touching Cynehelms and a warrior to his left, 'Now!' he screamed, and the men of Middlesex and Dorset charged. They let out a great war shout and the shield wall shot forward the final paces at great speed. Spears came over from the Danish lines and Wessex ones were returned and then came the thundering clash of shields. Alfred stabbed at the groin of the man immediately in front of him, twisting his sword and wrenching it free. The fallen Viking was immediately replaced, and the hacking and slashing continued. Cynehelm was screaming incoherently and he slashed his sword left and right and the Danes avoided him.

'Back one!' shouted the Earl of Middlesex and the front ranks raised their shields again and took one step back. The crush of the Vikings meant they would step forward into the gap, trip over the bodies of their fallen comrades and then be off balance, the line would then step forward again and recommence the attack on the unbalanced enemy. The Vikings, so sure of victory and confident in the raw power of simple fury had not redrawn the shield wall and came on at Alfred's men, and they crashed like the sea into a cliff. They broke against the shields of the army of Wessex and were cut down.

The Vikings checked and then reformed behind their shield wall. Their leader screamed something and they made a charge of their own

'Shields!' shouted Alfred and the men of Dorset thrust forward to check the charge. All along the front lines men held out their shields with left arms, leaving a space between their body and the shield and stabbed into the gap under the shield, into the enemy. The comrade behind them fought over their shoulder with sword or spear and chopped at the enemy over the top of the shield, and it was like this for Alfred and Cynehelm as they fought the Danes. All along the line men were dying and screaming, swords and axes clanging like bells, but the line held steady and the Vikings were gradually retreating.

Behind Alfred, the line of Middlesex was unravelling. Gaps widened in the shield wall as sword Danes burst through, as the front turned to fight the intruders they were cut down from behind and the Danes prised open the ranks and spread out into the men. These were battle hardened warriors against armed farmers and they stood no chance, they were broken and felled before they could be reinforced. The men were chased from the field by pursuing Vikings, and then Danes on horseback appeared from behind a ridge and rode them all down or splintered them into ineffective, small groups of men. The right flank was beginning to break entirely as the men of Kent, Sussex and Surrey came to shore up the gaps.

'Back!' shouted Aethelred, he was trying to reform the lines now that the right flank had been destroyed. Vikings could be seen marching behind the ridge to put more numbers on the Wessex right in an attempt to wrap around the army and break the flank and centre.

'Move Kent and Sussex there my Lord' said Alfred, pointing with his sword, 'fill the gaps'. Aethelred turned to survey the line when a Danish arrow zipped over the heads of the men and hit him in the shoulder. For a few seconds it seemed like it had caused no harm at all, Aethelred still in the process of turning merely glanced at the shaft in his shoulder, close to his neck but then silently slipped sideways and fell of his horse. The Danes cheered, confident once again, they lowered their shields and came at the Wessex lines renewed, they broke through gaps in the wall where men had turned and tried to run to the King's aid.

'Hold!' Alfred shouted but the centre was pushed further back, beyond Aethelred. The men of Kent went to their King's defence but the Danes were already there. The dragon banner was lost, Aethelred was lost. The Danes came from behind the ridge to extend their lines beyond the Wessex flanks, there was nothing to do but withdraw. In good order the army of Wessex retreated from the field, leaving their King behind.

[undercovergeek]

Safeguarded by the blackness of the night Alfred stood with Cynehelm and his Chancellor, Oscytel amongst the trees of a copse, on a hill looking down on Bath, the main town of Somerset. Alfred closed his eyes and screwed up his face in anger, most of the fires had been put out but a pall of smoke hung over the town and some flames could still be seen near the Roman bath houses in the centre. The town was lost to the Danes, approximately three thousand, that was the best Oscytel could count before he had to leave, the garrison had held them off for a week before the Vikings finally broke through and took the town. Half of Alfred's army had been lost on the downs of Wessex and were stationed now in Dorset, they would be no match here.

'We need to prepare for an attack on Dorset' he said mounting his horse 'If Dorset falls the West is gone, if the West falls all that remains of England will perish, save Mercia'






There is a place on the Dorset coast that smugglers call Moonfleet, it has a hidden cove known as Chesil Beach and is protected by a long sweeping headland. Most nights it harbours Frankish smugglers and Cornish criminals, but this cold, wintery night it harbours Alfred, his closest men and bodyguards and the recently disembarked two thousand two hundred Spanish mercenaries of the Navaresse company, their ships creaking in the still waters of the cove.

'Youre sure this is a good idea?' frowned Cynehelm, 'They are five times our number and could turn at any minute when a larger purse catches their eye'

'It is my brothers only hope, we must defeat the Halfdan and free Aethelred from Wessex's dungeon before it is too late'

[JasonPratt]

Good luck with that...  :-\  It almost comes down to whether the Danes get bored and go home early.