The dark brown of the earth and timber walls would have melted into the night’s inky blackness, had it not been for the vast number of torches flickering and moving back and forth behind the ramparts.
“Each torch is a watchman, armed to the teeth with axes, spears, swords and knives,” Ulf sighed. Waiting was the hardest part of this siege. Thou it was his duty to wait for orders. Waiting for that brown falcon with a message tied to its leg to return from his Uncle, the Knut Clan Chief. The message would, no doubt, tell him to sound his horn and push up the siege ladders and battering rams, up to that infernal wall, thus starting the siege. Ulf continued to sharpen his axes on a whet stone as he sat on a freshly cut log, still oozing pinesap that made small puddles at his feet; as he sat by the fire he had just lit. Then, looking up, Ulf saw the dim outline of a bird flying low over the soft pine and oak trees that surrounded the fort they were besieging. “It must be the hawk,” he thought.
Ulf smiled and slowly turned his head back to the earth and wood fort in front of him. It was well constructed; he had to give it that. Its walls were at least fifteen feet tall and surrounded by newly cut pine tree trunks sharpened to deadly points on the end; banners with the Halfdan clan’s emblem-- a slithering blue sea snake with long pointed fangs-- whipped in the wind. Ulf laughed, thinking how satisfying it would be to tear the wall to pieces with the battering rams, and burn the blue banners to ash.
The sleek, brown- and- white, speckled hawk -- with the message tied to its leg -- landed silently on Ulf’s log and clicked its beak together to get his attention. Ulf turned around and slowly untied the message from the bird’s leg, tossing it a piece of dried fish. The bird hungrily ate the fish and, with a last sidelong glance, flew off. Ulf slowly unwound the rolled-up letter. He gently stroked his long, straw- colored beard as his ice blue eyes scanned the page; then he laughed and got up from his seat, his chainmail chinking softly under his green shirt as he started for his tent.
The moon had not yet risen, so the sky was dark, but the stars had started to shine in the sky like eyes of silver. The blaze of torches and fires in the Knut clan camp sent shadows dancing over the ground. Ulf continued to walk through the maze of red and green tents that scattered the field where they encamped. Just outside of the ring of wool tents, Ulf could see the tall pines and mighty oaks that dominated this area of country. As he lopped through the camp, he passed by campfires with clansmen sitting round red, dancing flames. They were armed with war hammers; swords, and green round-shields bearing the Knut clan’s emblem of the wise owl clutching a spear in its claws. Ulf smiled as he passed the fires and then came to his own green wool tent, filled with weapons he had earned in battle-- suits of armor, and his bone horn. He grinned as he saw this old friend that had gone with him on countless battles. Slowly he raised it to his lips and gave a mighty blast that could be heard for miles. The battle had started.
Ulf stood just out of arrow shot of the wall surveying the last of the siege ladders going up to the wall, since he was high in rank it was his duty to make sure the siege had a good start before he joined the battle. Ulf thought back to the reason he was here, as he watched the men scurry about the battering rams pounding at the oaken gate of the fort. He remembered the day about a month ago that had started this whole campaign.
His clan had been the owners of a golden spear that had, supposedly, been given to their first clan chief by the Great War god Odin. As long as they had this spear in the sacred temple -- at the end of a small rock peninsula-- they would have Odin’s blessing. Alas, a month ago the Halfdan clan had come to their home in the dead of night-- and like ghosts on the wind and stole The Golden Spear from its temple; they had then run away with the spear, back to their fort like the cowards they were.
After the Knut clan realized the spear was gone they had all vowed to regain it. They had mustered a raiding party and set sail at once to regain their spear. This was the reason he, Ulf, was here, it was his duty to bring back the favor of Odin to his clan-- and this thought gave him an even stronger desire to break the wall in front of him.
Ulf had seen the last of the ladders pushed up to the wall, and after reporting to the Clan Chief he hurried to join the battle himself; armed with his four freshly sharpened throwing axes, a round-shield, one hunting knife, his war hammer and his faithful horn. He was now scaling one of the ladders like a mad squirrel in hopes that he could force the defenders back off their own wall, so he and his men could open the gate themselves instead of having to take the time to break it down. Unfortunately, as soon as he got to the top of the ladder and onto the wall he found this would be harder to do than he thought.
The voices of men filled the air and the sound of clashing metal and splintering wood added to the din. Halfdan warriors were standing shoulder-to-shoulder forming a screen of metal, wood and flesh in front of the ropes that raised and lowered the gate, to insure that no Knut clan raider could open their gate. Ulf ran towards the first of these warriors and brought his hammer down on his head, crushing his metal helmet with a loud crack, the man swayed once and toppled off the wall, landing with a dull thud. Ulf then turned just in time to see a man hurl a small knife at his head. The sharp, thin blade whistled through the air, Ulf just had time to raise his shield to protect himself, and then hear the muffled noise of the knife imbedding itself in his shield. Ulf in turn grabbed one of his throwing axes and lobbed it at the warrior who had just hurled the knife, the axe hit its mark and the man slumped against the ramparts. Ulf turned and slammed his hammer into the chest plate of the warrior next to him, cracking his ribs and sending him sailing off the wall.
A Knut clan warrior climbed up the ladder and sprinted over to Ulf. He wore light chainmail and donned a long green cape with a chainmail hood held together with a triangular shaped silver clasp. He was armed with a sturdy spear, two long knifes stuck in his belt and the green round shield that every Knut clan’s man used slung over his back. His old blue eyes scanned the battlegrounds as his long white beard swayed in the wind that had just sprung up like a frightened bird. Then he turned and spoke to Ulf as if they had just happened to meet in the longhouse doorway back home.
“A fine night to bring a fort’s walls to the ground, do you think?” The white bearded warrior said as he skillfully thrust his spear at the nearest Halfdan clan’s man while side stepping to dodge a sword slash.
“Olaf the bard, what brings you to the wall? I would have thought you were in the camp composing us a victory song,” Ulf said, and then smashed a Halfdan warrior’s shield with his war hammer shattering it into splinters.
“Ah, but what better inspiration for a victory song then fighting the battle my self,” Olaf yelled over the clang of swords and axes bouncing of armor. Ulf dodged a spear, and then rammed his shield into a Halfdan solider knocking him off of the ramparts. Ulf, Olaf and the rest of the Knut clan men continued to try to push back the Halfdan clan but for every man they killed, wounded and battered into non-existence, two or three more seemingly sprang out of the woodwork to take their fallen comrades place. Slowly the Knut clan was forced back to the sections of wall where they had first put up their ladders, well away from the gates ropes.
“Ulf you must call the men off the wall now or we’ll make it our permanent residence, and I would rather not live on a wall,” Olaf croaked as an arrow nearly missed his head.
“We are not leaving, we have to win this … fight, its our duty to the clan,” Ulf roared as a sword slash bounced off his heavy chainmail suit, knocking the wind from his lungs.
“We have no choice. We can continue the siege with the rams on the ground, but we need to get off this wall. It is also your duty to stay alive to protect the clan,” Olaf said in a surprisingly calm, yet firm voice. Ulf scanned the wall; more Halfdan troops were streaming on to the wall from below. The Knut warriors had no chance here on a thin wall, packed tight as they were. Ulf saw that Olaf was right-- it was his duty to keep these men alive. Ulf turned and lifted his horn and again gave a long blast, only this time the men started to pull back off the wall. Ulf lowered his horn just in time to grab his hunting knife and jab at an on coming enemy.
Quickly, the Knut warriors made their way to the ladders and descended to the safety of the ground where they then hurried to the battering rams or their tents to restock on arrow and knives and to tend to the wounded. Ulf was one of the last men off the wall, and as he climbed down the ladder he gave a last blow by throwing a well-aimed ax in the direction of a Halfdan solider.
Dawn had broken through the walls of the night sky and the sun shot its golden arrows down into the Knut camp and onto the Halfdan wall. Ulf had spent the night with the battering rams as they continued to pound the gate. They had seen progress, the gate had started to crack but then the Halfdan men had started to send volleys of stinging arrows at the Knut warriors and they had been forced to retreat. The rest of the night had been a stand off, Knut archers and Halfdan archers had exchanged shots, but nothing more happened.
Ulf now sat at a table spread with maps and charts of the area and the lay out of the hill fort. Olaf and four other high ranking warriors—Bjorn the Boar, Varin and Tokin, Twins of the Blue Sword, and Alrik of the Ice—had joined him as they sat and pondered what should be done.
“I say we burn the wall to the ground and not waste our time with all this battering and climbing!” Bjorn shouted and slammed the heavy wooden haft of his great ax on the table, knocking over maps and throwing some too the ground.
“Do you realize how big of a fire we would need, and how close we would have to get? Or, were you thinking we would hire a ‘non-existent dragon’ to burn the wall for us?” Varin said, nodding to the wall, with a mock serious face.
“It’s unworkable,” commented Tokin, tugging on his short red beard.
“Ill-thought-out,” agreed Varin. Both twins looked at each other, nodded and then sat back on the log and stared laughing. Bjorn scowled.
“I know, lets get Olaf to sing such a hideous song the whole Halfdan clan comes out of the fort begging him to stop!” Tokin said, as he and his brother continued to laugh now with renewed vigor. The rest of the party didn’t find it so amusing (especially Olaf) and sat in silence until the twins stopped.
“Now that you two are done we must return to the task at hand,” Alrik said resting his lanky arms on the table as he studied a map of the fort. Scratching his pointy, drawn-out chin. “It’s our duty as ranking warriors to come up with a way to get our spear back. I suggest that we find a way around the wall instead of trying to demolish it.”
“Oh, a way around it, and what should we do hire Bjorn’s ‘non-existent dragon’ to fly us over the wall,” Varin joked, and the two twins started to break out into laughter again.
“Quiet!” Ulf roared. “We are here to talk about relevant things, not joke and laugh. I know you both can make plans, so use your heads for planning, not joking.” The twins quickly quieted down and Alrik continued.
“If just a few of us could get over the wall, here,” he pointed to the opposite side of the wall from where the Knut clan was currently attacking. “Then we could sneak to the temple here,” --he pointed to a temple near the back of the fort-- “where the spear is, take it back, and be out before the Halfdan would know what happened.”
“What about the guards, Have you thought about the guards?” Olaf asked with raised eyebrows.
“There won’t be any. They’ll all be at the gate keeping an eye the rest of our clan,” Alrik replied, and pointed to the gate on the map.
“This is as good a plan as any,” Ulf said, “But who will go on this expedition?”
“I was thinking … we could,” Alrik said with his green eyes down cast. The rest of the party looked around at each other-- then Bjorn The Boar got up slammed his ax on the table once more and roared,
“Then what are we waiting for, the walls won’t climb themselves!”
The rest of the day was spent finalizing the plan and gathering the necessary supplies, then testing and sharpening weapons. As night started to fall and the moon started to rise the six warriors gathered around a small fire at the edge of the camp. They wore black cloaks over light chainmail and helmets; the cloaks would hide them and also muffle the clink of the chainmail. Ulf and Olaf were armed with the same weapons as they had carried the previous night. Bjorn carried his great-ax, a long-sword, and three small hatchets. The twins each had a sword, a green round shield, several small knifes and a grappling hook and rope for scaling the wall. Alrik simply had his longbow, arrows and a short-sword. As soon as the sky was completely inky-black, the six men got up and slinked off into the woods; and too the back wall.
A Halfdan soldier walked to and fro on the ramparts of the back wall of the hill fort. He had been station there since the sun had started to set and he was growing bored (and sleepy), all the action happened on the other side of the fort. He cast his eyes down to the base of the wall and was shocked to see six black figures standing there. He grabbed the small mallet the stood under a bell used to signal attacks, but before he had time to ring the bell he heard a twang of a bow string and an arrow pierced his throat. He slumped down without a word.
Alrik lowered his bow when he saw the Halfdan soldier fall, and then nodded to the twins. Varin and Tokin each unraveled their rope and attached the grappling hooks, then they threw the ropes and sent the hooks whizzing over the ramparts. They gave the ropes a tug and started to slowly climb up the wall. As soon as they were up the rest of the party followed. Soon they all stood on the wall. Silently they stole across the ramparts, they met no other guards, and in a few minutes had found a small staircase. They were in the fort.
The buildings where closely packed and met each other where the low arching roofs touched. The top of the temple was just visible over the other building. The six men wound there way through the twisting streets and alleys of the fort. Nowhere was a candle burning or a fire blazing, the walled in town was as dark as the bottom of a well. The wind wisped through the narrow roads and endlessly bashed the warriors as they slinked from shadow to shadow-- slowly closing on the temple.
Ulf found it his duty to lead the team as the traversed the small streets. Suddenly, as he rounded a corner he saw three of Halfdan clan’s men coming towards him with blazing torches. Ulf quickly ducked back into the alley he had just come out of, and he and the other men pressed into the shadows, clinging to the walls like moss. The three soldiers passed the alley and moved down the street. The six warriors waited for the torchlight to fail, and then continued to move towards the temple.
When they came to the temple they found it was not guarded, no Halfdan men where to be found. Ulf and Bjorn crept up to the door and pushed it open. The inside of the temple was smaller than they had thought, considering that it had towered over the other buildings. The room was dark and they could only see with the light from the open door. In the back of the temple was a stairway leading to a shrine on the back wall. The shrine was covered in runes and other carved markings, and in the middle of it stood the golden spear resting on a soft pillow of goose down. Ulf ran up the steps, the sound of his footsteps echoed in the high roof of the temple, when he got to the shrine he carefully removed the spear and wrapped it in a piece of black cloth he had brought. Then, he tossed the spear to Bjorn and the two of them stepped out of the temple to the others waiting outside.
“Do you have the spear?” Varin asked in a hushed whisper.
“Yes,” Bjorn answered.
“Then let’s get out of here, our duty is done,” Olaf croaked.
The six heroes again stole through the city and back through the dark alleys until the got to the wall. They encountered only one guard and Bjorn’s ax made quick work of him. They ascended the stairs to the wall, and found their hooks still imbedded in the ramparts. Ulf and Bjorn carrying the spear slid down the ropes and hit the ground with a muffled thud, the rest of the party followed. When the last man hit the ground the warriors slipped into the woods and made for the Knut camp.
When the six heroes made it back to camp they went immediately to the clan chief and presented him with the golden spear.
“You have done your duty well. But we must now go before the Halfdan find that the spear is back in the hands of its rightful owners,” said the chief.
The camp was a swarm of activity less than five minutes after the six men had talked to the chief. Tents were broken down, and men ran back and forth from the beach to the camp. The Halfdan guards on the wall watched in awe, thinking the Knuts had surrendered. In less than one hour the camp had been cleared, and the men were loading the last of the supplies. The boats were launched and the journey home had begun. By the time the Halfdan men realized the spear was gone the Knut clan was halfway home.
Ulf stood on the bow of the lead boat and looked towards the horizon. It had been three days since he had stolen back the spear, and he was looking forward to the home waiting for him. He had been straining his eyes for any sight of land for the past hour. Then he saw it, the lighthouse on top of a hill by the shore, the shore that was his home shore. Ulf saw this, and the came to the conclusion that his duty to find the spear and bring back the favor of Odin was done. He was home-- he had done his duty.
THE END