shields.
The line paused again. Osric's shield wall and Svein's skjaldborg were only twenty paces apart now and men could see their immediate foes, could see the face of the man they must kill or the man who would kill them. Both sides were screaming, spitting anger and insults, and the spear-throwers had their first missiles hefted.
'Keep closer' someone shouted.
'Shields touching!'
'God is with us!' Beocca called.
'Forward!' Another two paces, more of a shuffle forward than stepping.
'Bastards,' Steapa said, 'God help me, bastards.'
'Now!' Osric screamed. 'Now! Forward and kill them! Forward and kill them! Go! Go! Go!' And the men of Wiltunscir went. They let out a great war shout, as much to hearten themselves as to frighten the enemy, and suddenly, after so long, the shield wall went forward fast, men screaming, and the spears came over the Danish line and our own spears were hurled back and then came the clash, the real battle thunder as shield wall met skjaldborg. The shock of the collision shook our whole line so that even my troops, who were not yet engaged, staggered. I heard the first screams, the clangour of blades, the thump of metal driving into shieldwood, the grunting of men, and then I saw the Danes coming over the green ramparts, a flood of Danes charging us, intent on hacking into the flank of our attack, but that was why Alfred had put us on the left of Osric's force.
'Shields!' Leofric roared.
I hoisted my shield, touched Steapa's and Pyrlig's shields, then crouched to receive the charge.
Head down, body covered by wood, legs braced, Wasp-Sting ready. Behind us and to our right Osric's men fought. I could smell blood and shit. Those are the smells of battle, then I forgot Osric's fight for the rain was in my face, and the Danes were coming at a run, no shield wall formed, just a frenzied charge intent on winning the battle in one furious assault. There were hundreds of them, and then our spear-throwers let their missiles go.
'Now!' I shouted, and we stepped one pace forward to meet the charge and my left arm was crushed into my chest as a Dane hit me, shield against shield, and be slammed an axe down and I rammed Wasp-Sting forward, past his shield, into his flank and his axe buried itself in Eadric's shield that was above my head. I twisted Wasp- Sting's blade, pulled her free and stabbed again. I could smell ale on the Dane's sour breath. His face was a grimace. He yanked his axe free. I stabbed again and twisted the sax's tip into mail or bone, I could not tell which. 'Your mother was a piece of pig-shit,' I told the Dane, and he screamed in rage and tried to bring the axe down onto my helmet, but I ducked and shoved forward, and Eadric protected me with his shield, and Wasp-Sting was red now, warm and sticky with blood, and I ripped her upwards.
Steapa was screaming incoherently, his sword slashing left and right, and the Danes avoided him.
My enemy stumbled, went down onto his knees, and I hit him with the shield boss, breaking his nose and teeth, then shoved Wasp-Sting into his bloody mouth. Another man immediately took his place, but Pyrlig buried his boar spear in the newcomer's belly.
'Shields!' I shouted, and Steapa and Pyrlig instinctively lined their shields with mine. I had no idea what happened elsewhere on the hilltop. I only knew what happened within Wasp-Sting's reach.
'Back one! Back one!' Pyrlig called, and we stepped back one pace so that the next Danes, taking the place of the men we had wounded or killed, would trip over the fallen bodies of their comrades, and then we stepped forward as they came so that we met them when they were off balance. That was how to do it, the way of the warrior, and we in Alfred's immediate force were his best soldiers. The Danes had charged us wildly, not bothering to lock shields in the belief that their fury alone would overwhelm us. They had been drawn, too, by the sight of Alfred's banners and the knowledge that should those twin flags topple then the battle was as good as won, but their assault hit our shield wall like an ocean wave striking a cliff, and it shattered there. It left men on the turf and blood on the grass, and now the Danes at last made a proper shield wall and came at us more steadily.
I heard the enemy shields touching, saw the Danes' wild eyes over the round rims, saw their grimaces as they gathered their strength. Then they shouted and came to kill us.
'Now!' I shouted and we thrust forward to meet them.
The shield walls crashed together. Eadric was at my back, pressing me forward, and the art of fighting now was to keep a space between my body and my shield with a strong left arm, and then to stab under the shield with Wasp-Sting. Eadric could fight over my shoulder with his sword. I had space to my right for Steapa was left-handed which meant his shield was on his right arm, and he kept moving it away from me to give his long sword room to strike.
That gap, no wider than a man's foot is long, was an invitation to the Danes, but they were scared of Steapa and none tried to burst through the small space. His height alone made him distinctive, and his skull-tight face made him fearsome. He was bellowing like a calf being gelded, half shriek and half belligerence, inviting the Danes to come and be killed. They refused. They had learned the danger of Pyrlig, Steapa and I, and they were cautious. Elsewhere along Alfred's shield wall there were men dying and screaming, swords and axes clanging like bells, but in front of me the Danes hung back and merely jabbed with spears to keep us at bay. I shouted that they were cowards, but that did not goad them onto Wasp-Sting, and I glanced left and right and saw that all along Alfred's line we were holding them. Our shield wall was strong. All that practice in ?thelingaeg was proving itself, and for the Danes the fight grew ever more difficult for they were attacking us, and to reach us they had to step over the bodies of their own dead and wounded. A man does not see where he treads in battle for he is watching the enemy, and some Danes stumbled, and others slipped on the rain-slicked grass and when they were off balance we struck hard, spears and swords like snake-tongues, making more bodies to trip the enemy.
We of Alfred's household troops were good. We were steady. We were beating the Danes, but behind us, in Osric's larger force, Wessex was dying.
Because Osric's shield wall unravelled.
Wulfhere's men did it. They did not break Osric's shield wall by fighting it, but by trying to join it.
Few of them wanted to fight for the Danes and, now that the battle was joined, they shouted at their countrymen that they were no enemy and wanted to change sides, and the shield wall opened to let them through, and Svein's men went for the gaps like wildcats. One after the other those gaps widened as Sword-Danes burst through. They cut Wulfhere's men down from behind, they prised open Osric's ranks and spread death like a plague. Svein's Vikings were warriors among farmers, hawks among pigeons, and all of Alfred's right wing shattered. Arnulf saved the men of Suth Seaxa by leading them to the rear of our ranks, and they were safe enough there, but Osric's fyrd was broken, harried and driven away east and south.
The rain had stopped and a cold damp wind scoured the edge of the downs now. Alfred's men, reinforced by Arnulf's four hundred and a dozen or so of Osric's fugitives, stood alone as the Wiltunscir fyrd retreated. They were
