Warlord of the North by Griff Hosker Read Free Book Online

jetty were narrow and I heard the splashes as men fell into the icy waters of the Tees.  My river protected us too. If they fell in the icy waters they would last but moments. I became a killing machine.  I blocked with my shield and swung my sword.  Sometimes my blow was from above and at other times from below. Their eyes were still blinded by their own fires. Their defence was brief because we slew them so quickly. The ones we did not slay sought safety in the water.  They died anyway.  I daresay one or two hardier souls may have struggled ashore at the Tees mouth but they would not return.
    I raised my sword, "Let us end this tonight.  Follow me and we will fall upon the Scottish camp."
    When I had been on the walls I had seen that they had the tents of their leaders to the east of the town.  I headed for it. The men who were dying at the hands of my archers were the ones who were on watch close to the walls. The leaders and the knights had been in their beds.  Awoken by the clamour they now rose and gathered outside their tents.  They watched as fire arrows fell into their camp. I saw a knot of them pointing and debating at this new lunacy. What were the men of Stockton up to?
    It was now the time to strike.  I began to run.  With my shield held tightly against my chest I held my sword above my head.  To my right were Wulfric, Erre and the other Varangians.  They spurned their shields, carrying them over their backs, and held their axes in two hands.  The power which they generated when they swung their mighty axes was frightening. The nobles saw us and, like deer caught in the dark, stood almost petrified to the spot.  It lasted but a heartbeat but we were moving so quickly that the heartbeat ended for some. I spied a knight with a gryphon on his surcoat.  It was like that of the Senonche family. This must be a relative who lived in Scotland.  Sir Guy had died at my hands but he had caused too much pain for me to be merciful.  I brought my sword down from on high.  It smashed into the knight's shield.  He had failed to brace himself and the shield was driven down towards his chest.  I had put my weight into the blow.  I had been travelling at speed and the sword continued down. It bit into the mail of his coif and ventail.  He began to fall backwards and I struggled to keep my feet.  I had done this enough times to hold back a little and I stopped.  My foe did not and he tumbled to the ground. As the breath was taken from him I raised my blade and plunged my sword into his mouth as he opened it to suck in air.
    I pulled out the sword and sought my next foe. Wulfric and my Varangians were carving a path of death before them.  No one was giving quarter.  We were too few in number.  These were largely men at arms who followed me and their reward would come when they searched the bodies of the dead.  Until then they killed!
    I had enough men behind me so that I did not worry about those who fell wounded.  They would be despatched.  We ran on.  Although we were spread out a little more we were approaching those men who were not as well armoured and were suffering from my archers' attack.  I did not fear that we would be struck.  Dick and the archers he commanded were too good for that. Some of the Scots had courage far beyond their skills.  Some raced at me with bill hooks in an abortive attempt to slay me.  I fended off their weapons and gutted them.  Others had a small buckler and sword. None of the swords could match my well made weapons and all were slain. When the gate opened and Dick led my archers and the townsfolk to complete our attack it was too much for the Scots who remained and they fled.
    Dick and his archers led the fyrd to pursue and to hunt down the survivors. The Scots who had come south to claim Stockton left a trail of bodies and bones as they ran north across the frozen ground which led home.  Dick and his archers halted only at Thorpe, seven miles up the road.  By