Legends Never Die: Choosing the Battlefield (ch. 34) (Patreon)

"The boy isn't King," Jarl Aldmund voiced as soon as we left the city, a deep frown in his voice. "He couldn't be more of a puppet if he had strings attached to him and a hand up his arse." I nodded along at that, having noticed much the same. It could be that we didn't share a common tongue, but it seemed that the man took the liberty of answering questions for the king. But, more than that, my impression of Authun was that he was bored.

The only thing he seemed to have any interest in was me.

"Does it change anything?" I questioned, following behind him.

To that, Jarl Aldmund huffed in annoyance. "No, not really. What happens to Holland after the war is of no concern to us. It's troubling to be brought in under false pretenses, but I find it more reassuring. If this was the boy king's idea, then I would have less faith. He has a poor reputation for seeing things through and he is betraying his kin. The plan of an ambitious thegn, however, is easier to swallow. Especially if he's remotely competent."

That's about what I expected to hear. "We need to deal with that army. Or Charlemagne's paladins at the very least. Astolfo was a match for me when we last fought. I'm not fond of the idea of facing several at once, but better two than all twelve," I voiced my opinion and I could see the effect that my words had. Jarl Aldmund glanced back at me, his brow furrowed and a deep frown pulling at his lips. There was a glimmer of fear in his dark eyes.

"That is poor news, Wolf-Kissed… but aye, it makes sense. We must offer battle, but it cannot be in a field of their choosing. We know where they are, so we must march to them. Send your scouts to find a proper field -- we want hills and woods. I heard tales of their calvary and I'm not keen on testing them," he instructed, earning a nod from me.

"I'll go myself," I decided. "I wish to see these Paladins. With a little luck, I might be able to kill one before the battle starts." I could tell that Jarl Aldmund wanted to argue the decision. However, he swallowed the words down. He was in command of me -- of this army, he was the leader. However, I was not someone whose decisions he could ignore or rule against and we both knew it. We both knew that the battle would hinge on my actions. It was why I was sent here with him in the first place.

"Do as you will, Wolf-Kissed," Jarl Aldmund agreed with a curt nod. "The Hollanders will send out runners to gather up a fighting force. I wouldn't expect much from them, but we could have the edge in numbers. For what it might be worth." He sounded uncertain of it.

"Should we delay the battle, then?" I asked, thinking that it would be best to attack now. While we knew their numbers and location. It seemed prudent. Yet, Jarl Aldmund fell silent as we neared our camp outside of the city without walls.

Finally, he spoke after a long minute of thought. "If this were to be a trap… then they would have no better time to spring it. We have no proof of whether they follow our gods, or if the villages that were burned belonged to those that follow the true ways. We have nothing but their word, in a language none of us understand. If they mean to betray us, the smart thing to do would be to say they are siding with us. Position themselves in a place of importance on the field and when the battle begins, attack us instead of the Christians," Jarl Aldmund said, painting a terrible picture.

True Vision could be the answer to this issue, but I didn't know enough about what marked someone as an enemy or a friend or important. What did know was that the well dressed man had been gray. As was the king and his guard. "I agree. The two strike me as opportunistic. If they feel that we are losing the battle, I expect we'd find a knife in our backs while they claimed it was the plan all along." To that, Jarl Aldmund grunted. "They are raiding pagans… instead of trusting their word that their followers follow our ways, we could recruit them ourselves."

"Raid the raiders? Aye, that could work. Thin their numbers a bit before the battle, and men will fight harder for someone that saved them. Would have to explain it to that boy king and his puppeteer, but I can handle that. Don't take a small group -- a hundred men, at least. I'll give you the horses for speed. If nothing else, this should provoke them to attack us."

I traded a nod with the Jarl before heading into camp with Halfdan in tow. "Halfdan," I spoke up, catching his attention. "I need to learn how to speak these people's language. Can you find me someone that does and can teach me? And who knows how to keep a secret?" I requested, earning a cocky smile in response.

"Can do, little brother," Halfdan agreed, splitting off from me. It wasn't just for the sake of learning another language. I had met Authun and the well dressed man and they knew I couldn't speak their tongue. However, if I could learn even some of it in the coming days before the battle? I imagine that when we next saw each other, they might let something slip in my presence.

Intrigue experience gained: 100

I smirked at the message from the gods, taking it as approval from Loki himself.

…

Halfdan had managed to find me a man that spoke the language called Dutch. But, because of the circumstances, we were forced to take him with us as we set out to raid throughout Holland. We were provided a rough map of the area, marked with settlements and where the Frank army currently was. What the map didn't convey was how marshy the entire land was. It seemed to be nothing more than rivers and marshes or swamps.

As promised, we were given horses and I decided to divide my band into three parts -- one led by me, one by Thorkell, and one by Halstien. Morrigan and Jill -- much to their chagrin -- were forced to remain behind in the main encampment. The odd hundred and fifty man bands were then sent out into the country to rally it to our cause.

The first day of learning Dutch was an uneventful one. The second, I could hold a stilted conversation. On the third day, however? I spoke Dutch as if I had been born speaking it.

And it wasn't a day too soon, because as we approached a small town, I saw that we weren't the only ones that had had this idea.

It only made sense. Why send two thousand men to root out pagans from small villages when a band of fifty would be more than enough?

"They haven't noticed us yet," I remarked to Authun, my archer scout. Despite his relative youth, I found that he was quickly finding my faith in his abilities. True Vision revealed him to be a warm blue, making him a loyal ally. Just as it marked the Frankish soldiers that were riding into a village in a dark red. They too had horses, but I saw something of note on them. The color gold.

The foot rests that they used on their horses. It might make riding more comfortable, but it felt very odd that the gods would mark such a simple thing as a footrest as important. Still, I had faith in their wisdom. Wisdom I would understand once I acquired the foot rests.

"Shall we attack?" Authun questioned, looking to me for direction as True Vision faded.

Quest: Save the Village

Reward: 35 recruits. 150 Tactics exp.

"We shall. I'll be the main thrust. Flank around to make sure none escape," I accepted the quest from the gods with a nod. Authun nodded before grabbing a horn that hung from his waist and giving it a sharp note. The signal to attack. Before the signal had even finished, I galloped forward toward the village as sounds of combat started to echo out from within. We arrived too late to circumvent the battle, but not too late to help. Something that couldn't be said for a good dozen villages that we had come by in the past several days.

My men and I thundered across the fields around the village, kicking up mounds of dirt in our wake before we arrived at the back of the raiders. The sound of our hooves alerted those in the back ranks of our arrival, I noticed, catching the eye of a scrambling Frank. Rushing forward, I swung my dane-axe at him, catching him in the shoulder and cutting all the way down to his sternum.

"To arms! To arms!" I heard a man shot in Frankish, all the while people were screaming out in Dutch from within their homes. Some dared to peek out when the clash began in earnest. The raiders were spread out, and over the cries of the Dutch men and women, the calls to arms were missed by more than a few of them as they ran down villagers.

Rushing forward, I threw myself into the thick of the raiders, galloping forward with my Dane-axe raised high. I struck down the man that was trying to rally his men while the rest of mine started to pour into the village. The only obvious escape point was directly across from me. Even before his head hit the ground, I moved on, hacking at the man next to him as I tried to get the Franks to route.

As I did so, one of the Franks met me in battle, urging his horse to cut me off. I reared back on the reins, only for it to be too late. My horse crashed into his, knocking me free of my horse and sending me tumbling through the air. But the Frank in question managed to stay seated. As I fell, my eyes darted to the footrests on the horse that were pulled taunt.

Ah. I see.

That's why the Franks didn't go flying like I did when they charged into our rear.

I slammed into the ground with a thump, but I quickly found my feet. The Frank that unhorsed me calling out, "The Wolf-Kissed is unhorsed! Kill him! Kill him in the name of our Lord!" He shouted, urging his horse forward as he leveled a spear at my throat. I batted it away with a hand as I struck out with my Dane-axe, hacking off the front leg of his horse and sending it into the ground. The horse cried out in agony, making my stomach clench.

Killing men was far easier than killing animals, I decided. The Frank scrambled to his feet, drawing a dirk before lunging at me with it. His eyes were crazed -- he was terrified. I saw it. With the expression he wore, I'd have thought he would be running away from me at full speed, but instead he threw himself at me like a man possessed by a spirit. I was taken aback by his fervor, but I didn't hesitate. With the advantage of my speed and reach, I caught him in the leg, carving through it before I beheaded him with the backswing. Despite the bravery that he showed, the other Franks didn't answer his calls.

The one near me shifted and ran, fleeing through the only obvious exit. More than half of them were cut down, and a few more perished in their attempts to flee. However, as they left the outer edge of the village, pouring through the only open path, I watched at they were feathered with arrows. Three to a man, punch into their necks or eyes. All of them died before they even realized they were under attack.

I smiled to myself. I had just tried out an idea that I had while watching my first battle -- offering the enemy a point of escape and letting them run into a trap. Shouldering my axe, I looked over at the meager village. There were a number of bodies on the streets, and those who weren't killed by the raiders were fleeing indoors. I could feel their eyes on me, watching with bated breath as they were uncertain if we were here to help or pick up where the Franks left off.

"Friends!" I called out in Dutch, letting my voice echo out. "We are friends!" I continued, throwing on a heavy accent onto my words. My men began to calm and claim the horses, looting the corpses of the raiders with well practiced ease. As my words rang out, I caught a glimpse of a family peering through a window. They exchanged nervous glances, the father speaking lowly to his family. It seemed they didn't know what to make of me.

However, a door swung open and the single oldest looking man I had ever seen in my life stepped out from a small house. His back was hunched, no longer able to stand up straight after what seemed to be at least several centuries of bending over to sow and reap the harvest. His hair was white and thin, while his face was covered in wrinkles. Flemeth was the oldest person I had ever seen, but she seemed young in comparison to the man that walked towards me with the help of a walking stick.

Despite his age, his eyes were sharp as he approached. "You are the Wolf-Kissed, hm? You're a little short, hm?" He spoke to me in near flawless Norse, catching me by surprise.

I narrowed my eyes, "I'm still taller than you, greybeard." I retorted, earning a breathless chuckle from him.

"Ha! You'll be lucky to stand this tall when you reach my age. Ah. My tongue got away from me. You have our thanks for your timely aid," he said, bowing his head to me. "We heard word that Duke Ageric was cracking down on our ways, but we believed ourselves safe from it."

I wanted to ask why, but I held my tongue. "It was the will of the gods. We shall be giving battle to Duke Ageric in the coming weeks. As much as I am to put an end to their raiding, I am here for men willing to fight against the Christians. Are there any such men in this village?" I asked, earning a small nod from the greybeard.

"Aye, I reckon you'd find plenty here. We were already mustering up to answer the call of King Ageres," the old man returned, sounding proud of that fact. I frowned, my gaze going to the corpse of the brave frank.

"When did you give your answer?" I asked him, curious. It very well could be the will of the gods, and failing that, pure dumb luck. Which amounted to the same thing.

The greybeard scratched at his cheek, "Couldn't be more than two days ago. Day and a half," He answered. We could ride back to the city within half a day if we rode hard. With the Frankish army's last location, it would be closer to three quarters of a day.

Hm.

"The timing is too close for this to be a coincidence," I quickly decided. I hadn't known the village answered the call to arms. The fact that a Norseman was speaking to me made me inclined to believe that the village did worship our gods. But, in answering the call to arms, they painted a target on themselves for the raiders. Ageric was rooting out the pagans that lived in his territory, while at the same time, preventing us from gaining any reinforcements. It was a clever play. And it meant one thing for certain.

Someone was feeding Ageric information -- which villages were answering the call to arms, and they were close enough to retaliate before the reinforcements could mobilize. They were picking them apart while their numbers were small. Just as I was hoping to do with the Franks. I couldn't say I particularly cared for the Franks using my tactics against me. Not one bit.

Still, this was useful information. Extremely useful.

Because now I knew where the raiders would appear.

And I knew someone was feeding the Franks information.

It was time to lay a trap of my own, I decided.

…

Over the course of three more days, we clashed against the Frankish raiders four more times. Each time, we wiped out the parties down to a man. The Franks had what seemed to be a good dozen raiding parties throughout the area and receiving information from the Dutch about which villages were answering the call to arms led us right to them. However, after our fifth victory, the Franks seemed to realize that we knew where they would be. Their pattern changed abruptly on the second day, leaving us to collect the Dutch warriors without issue.

I sent out my messengers to Duke Aldmund, letting him know the plan. He was agreeable to it. Jill and Morrigan, far less so.

"Maybe they do have a point," I muttered under my breath, gazing out to the village that we were tasked to recruit from. This one was far removed from the area that we had patrolled and recruited from in the past week. "Using myself as bait like this…" I signed, knowing that I was in for a talking to when we got back to camp. I had learned a harsh lesson in Frankfurt. The tunnel collapsed because too many people had sprinted through it. We ended up trapped in that city because I agreed to be the rear guard. The position that would be fighting the longest.

And now I was doing it again, I realized. Morrigan wouldn't be happy. Still, I thought it was worth doing. Especially when I saw Authun galloping toward me, his expression terse. "It's as you suspected. They marched their army against you," Authun told me, and I didn't have it in me to be happy about that. I gazed into the surrounding terrain -- perfect for hiding an army that was two thousand strong. The terrain had some rolling hills that were covered in a dense forest while the village itself was located in a sleepy valley.

"Someone is definitely working with the Franks within the Dutch city," I voiced, not surprised by the outcome. I suspected it the moment I was tasked with safeguarding fifty warriors on the edge of Holland. It was an ambush arranged just for me. "I suppose I should be flattered," I continued, searching the forest for any obvious hint that they were in there. They hid themselves well.

Ageric was clever. More so than I gave him credit for.

"They know you are the greatest threat to them, Lord Seigfried. Attacking you now, without the support of the army, is too good of a chance to pass up," Authun agreed. That was the plan. To be so tempting that the Franks would have to jump on the opportunity.

They were being led by Ageric. A man who knew me. Who witnessed first hand what I was capable of. Twice, I had captured him, and twice he had seen the effects that I had on a battlefield or siege. More than that, after ransoming him twice and now I was working with his brother to overthrow him… well, I imagine Ageric had more than just political reasons to want me dead. And with his knowledge of my prowess, he knew he'd be a fool to attack me with anything less than his full army.

But I had walked into enough traps.

"We're retreating," I told Authun. "Let them give pace. Jarl Aldmund should be in position already. We just need to lead them to the field of our choosing," I told him. We would be the bait that led them right into the jaws of the beast.

Authun nodded, brining the horn to his lips and sounding the retreat. The army saw us, and they would see us leave. At this close, they would become convinced-

A red trajectory mark lined itself up with my forehead coming from the forest across from me. Thousands of feet, over the village, and the mark hardly showed any signs of a drop. I reacted instantly, jerking my head out of the way just in time to avoid the arrow that I felt tickling my ear with its feathers. It struck a man behind me, and I saw it punched through his chainmail and through him as well.

My attention jerked back to the forest to see another red trajectory mark lined itself up with my chest. This time, I saw the arrow racing towards me and I shifted my dane axe in its path, catching the arrow with the broadside of my axe. My arms jerked from the sudden force, the arrow head carving a long groove into the surface before the arrow shaft was reduced to splinters. That really was an incredible shot, but now I was looking at who was trying to kill me. I wasn't all that surprised by who it was.

"Good," I decided, seeing a familiar face. She stood out now that she revealed herself -- a shock of red hair not too different from my own, dark green eyes. I never learned her name, but I recognized her even without the nun garb. She was the archer woman that tried to kill me back in Worms. I gave a small taunting wave with my axe before I urged my horse back.

I didn't kill her last time because she possessed the heart of a warrior but was dreadfully out of position to fight me. She swore revenge, and now she was here to take it. I didn't really expect much from her -- I thought she would be just another archer in the Frankish armies.

Instead, she was something special. There was too much power behind the arrows. It wasn't normal. Her range with it was too long, and too accurate. It was early to say if she was like me, but at the very least, she wasn't a normal archer.

She was a warrior. And this time, I would give her the warrior death worthy of her courage.

"Full retreat! Follow my lead! And keep an eye behind you or you'll find yourself with a feathered arse!" I called out, breaking into a flat gallop away from the army. My mercenaries were quick to follow me, and I would have known that the Franks gave chase even without being told. Thousands of sprinting people or horses shook the ground ever so slightly and made a chaotic mess of noise.

The Franks abandoned their position in favor of chasing us down, their cavalry leading the charge since they were the only ones that could hope to keep up. I could guess Ageric's plan -- lock us down with his horsemen, letting the footmen catch up, and then we would be brought down by sheer weight of numbers. But, that plan hinged on the idea that they could keep up with us. They couldn't, but I slowed us intentionally. Letting the horsemen think we were just within their grasp.

As we galloped toward our ultimate destination, one figure took the lead of the Frankish army. Clad in the odd plate armor with a white cloak billowing out behind her. She was unmistakable. Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's Paladins. It looked like we would get to have our rematch. Hopefully, this one wouldn't end in a draw.

Despite the danger, a smile found its way onto my face as I saw our destination. A trap laid out for the Franks.

And they were rushing headlong right into it.