“Who commands here?” he demanded. There was some discussion amongst the Danes to discover who of any rank remained before two men stepped forward. “I offer you surrender on terms,” said Alan. You can accept those terms or I will again call down the fire from the sky, killing each one of you most painfully and destroying your ships. What say you?”
The elder of the two leaders shrugged “I am Sven Ericsson of Aarlberg. This is Henryk of Flensberg. State your terms, although I see little choice other than acceptance or death,” he said.
Alan had some difficulty in understanding the Dane, although the common elements of Anglo-Saxon allowed him to gain the gist of what had been said in Danish. Anne trotted up on her white palfrey and placed herself next to Alan.
“I can speak Danish. Tell me what you want,” she said.
Alan pointed to the Dane. “He’s Sven Ericsson of Aalberg and seems to be the surviving leader. Firstly, they are to disarm. Weapons piled there, armour there. Any valuables on a pile there. Any man who keeps so much as a knife used for cutting toenails will be summarily put to death. After that they re-group. Please explain that to them.”
Anne passed on the instructions and the Danes formed lines to begin to divest themselves of their weapons and then were searched as they moved away. While they were doing that Alan asked Anne to arrange food and drink both for the victors and the vanquished. This time two quarts of ale per man for the Englishmen were allowed. The Danes could make do with water and be thankful. Anne gave instructions to one of her villagers, who hurried off. Alan looked up at the sky. “It’s still only mid-morning! It feels like the end of a long day,” he commented.
“Was Hastings like this?” asked Anne as the long line of Danes slowly shuffled forward.
Alan snorted. “No. That was my first battle and I learned a lot that day, mainly about what not to do. Probably the two greatest generals of our time were involved and they produced a blood-bath that seemingly lasted forever. There was a lake of blood at the bottom of the hill by the end of the day. Harold and the English occupied a strong position on top of a small hill, with steep sloping ground and trees to each side protecting their flanks. There were small brooks and marshy land at the bottom of the hill. We had no room to manoeuvre, which is what our form of combat is based on. Mounted charges uphill against a shield-wall protected by spears is a good way to get your cavalry killed.
“We started fighting at mid-morning and were still fighting in the dark as night fell. That was a simple battle of attrition and we managed to kill enough Englishmen to get some knights up onto the ridge and turn the flank, rolling up the shield-wall from one side. Until Harold fell when some of our knights broke through his bodyguard and cut him down, the battle could have gone either way. There were several similarities Both forces were about equal in number, one with a good defensive position but a large number of untrained troops. One with archers and cavalry, although my 25 horsemen here hardly count, and the other without.”
By now the Danes were back in a group on the beach, perhaps 250 men remaining alive and unwounded. The tide was coming in and Alan had the prisoners moved under guard slightly closer to the village. Most had worn tunics under their armour but many were naked to the waist. They were told to sit down and bread and water was handed out.
Alan instructed Sven, who was wearing a rust-stained tunic, to order the ships to come in and beach one by one and for the crews to disarm. Each ship contained about half a dozen men. The ships contained sacks of valuables, silver coins, silver and gold jewellery and articles, glass beads, more weapons, all apparently plundered from the English over the last few days of looting. And there were nearly 100 English captives, mainly young men and women but some children of both sexes also. They wore dazed, blank and bewildered looks; most were clearly in shock over what they had endured.
Anne took the rescued people immediately to the village and placed them in the care of the village women who had by now returned. The two other groups of captured Danes, the group from the fighting near the village and the group of survivors from the ambush two days before, were escorted to join the other prisoners. Without counting them Alan estimated that there were over 250 men sitting on the wet sand. They were surrounded by 40 archers, each bowman with an arrow notched in his bow and just waiting for a chance to use it, and about 40 swordsmen and spearmen. Alan found one of the sailors named Bjorn spoke good English and took him with him when he went back to see Sven. Between the various groups it appeared that five of their lesser leaders or chiefs had survived.
“You all know the penalties for foreigners caught raiding?” said Alan abruptly to the group of chiefs, who were sitting together. All three of the principal chiefs had perished in the fighting that morning. “The rich ones are offered the opportunity for ransom. The poor are either hung or sold as slaves. None of you look wealthy enough to bother ransoming. But you did surrender when I offered you terms, so I’m prepared to be generous if you do what I say. Eight ships sailed south-east along the coast several hours ago, four long-boats and four captured cogs. What were they carrying and where were they going?”
It took several minutes to sort out the answers. Where was quickly resolved- they were to wait for the other ships near Brightlingsea. No attack was to be made by them as they carried virtually no warriors, being packed with captives and loot plundered, including much of the contents of the warehouses by the wharf at Colchester.
It transpired that just what the ships carried nobody really knew, as items had been seized and stuffed into the ships indiscriminately. They would not be expecting the attackers of Wivenhoe until at least the next day as the attackers had anticipated taking their time enjoying what they could in the village and had not expected to be in any condition to sail until mid-day the next day at the earliest.
Instructing Hugh to maintain a close guard on the prisoners, Alan walked back towards the village, where those Englishmen who were not guarding the prisoners had gathered. Walking back through the field of death, when he reached the place where the Wildfire had landed Alan was sickened by what he saw and smelt.
Lying on large patches of burnt, charred grass were the horribly burnt remains of hundreds of men. Some had been totally incinerated, with little more than piles of ashes. Others were seared so that, while they still retained human form, their features and most of their flesh had been burnt away. Still others appeared largely intact but had died from having legs or arms burnt away. Many of the bodies continued to smoulder, filling the air with the stench of burnt flesh. Swords and helmets lay twisted and distorted by the heat.
Tears of anguish were running down Alan’s face as he walked into the village and saw a group of Danish injured, many with horrible burns, sitting and largely being ignored by the English. Beside the small wooden church was a line of English dead, with the local priest Father Ator on his knees half way down the line, providing last rites to the dead. Alan counted 47, mainly wearing the rough clothing of cheorls and peasants.
Alan saw Anne sitting on the ground with a group of women and children who had been rescued. As he approached he was embarrassed as many, clearly recognising his air of authority and quality of equipment, stood to kiss his hand in appreciation. Time and time again he asked them to sit. Anne and another woman helped him out of his hauberk, struggling with its forty-pound weight. Underneath his gambeson and tunic were soaked with sweat and he stank.
He sat tiredly on the ground and wiped his face with a wet cloth that one of the women in the group brought him. “My God that was terrible! I’ll never be able to do that again. May God forgive what I have done! I never thought that the consequences would be like that. What can we do to help the badly burned Danes?”
“Nothing!” said Anne fiercely. “Do nothing! It is God’s punishment for what they have done! Let them all die as slowly and as painfully as possible. Listen now.” She had the rescued English tell their stories of the attacks on Mile End, Dayneland, Beer Church, Fingringhoe and other smaller settlements. The attacks were made without warning, the men who tried to resist cut down without a moment’s hesitation. Wanton murder and rape. Women were now widows, children orphans who had seen both parents killed, elder sisters as young as eight repeatedly raped and then their throats cut. Torture and every kind of wickedness. One of the pagan Danish leaders, killed in the fires that morning, had proclaimed himself in league with the Devil and had impaled every thegn or person of nobility to die a slow death while their womenfolk and children were raped and killed in front of them. Many of the women and children sat in shock, staring into the distance and rocking back and forth. The women and children of Wivenhoe did what they could to give comfort, holding and cuddling children, holding the hands of women and wiping away their tears.
Feeling humbled and ashamed of his own self-centeredness Alan walked over to the much smaller group of rescued young men. Again, most were in shock, many having witnessed the death of close family members- parents, spouses, children, brothers and sisters. Almost all blamed themselves for not doing more and were ashamed of their own survival. In their own rough way the village menfolk were trying to help by listening to the
