Warlord of the North by Griff Hosker Page B

walls had long since stopped smoking but they stood bleakly like the teeth in an old woman's mouth.  The gate my father and his men had built was thrown down.  The dead still lay where they fell. No one was left alive. Although they had not despoiled the church, even the Scots would not dare do that, they had killed the priests.
    "Should we bury them, lord?"
    I shook my head. "We will do that when we have scoured this side of the land of Scots." I did not like the decision and it was not taken lightly but I had to take it. We headed towards Hartness. We passed burnt out farms where the carrion had picked over the bodies. There had been no treasure to take.  They were killing those who lived and then moving on.
    We were approaching the hamlet of Cowpen when we saw our first sign of life. Dick rode up to us, "My lord, there is a band of Scots.  They are attacking Cowpen. The large house is being assaulted.  There are men within still fighting."
    "Take your archers and cut them off.  They will try to retreat to Hartness."
    I knew what the village looked like. There was a circle of huts around a green. Although there was no lord of the manor, Aethelred, the headman, had been one of my father's men at arms and he knew how to fight. 
    I turned to my knights and men at arms. "We ride in hard with neither trumpet nor shout. We give no quarter.  I want no ransom! I want them dead!"
    I drew my sword and spurred Scout. Wilfred, my new squire, could barely keep up with me. Sir Harold and Sir Tristan flanked me.  Both had been my squire and knew how to stay close.  Sir Hugh was behind me so that we made a diamond and like a diamond I hoped that we would be as sharp. As we burst between the first rude houses I saw flames licking at the large hut. I could hear the clamour of battle.  Even as we charged I saw arrows loosed from within. Men defended their homes. The Scots were commanded by a knight and they had a ram to batter down the sturdy door.
    I led the charge and I saw a Scot with his breeks around his knees as he tried to rape a woman. Two of his fellows held her down.  I charged towards them and, at the last moment, lifted Scout's head as I swung my sword at the man on the right. He leapt over them. Scout's hooves smashed the skulls of the rapist and his accomplice.  The woman was showered in brains and blood but she lived. I did not rein in my horse but I ploughed into the backs of those at the door.  The four of us and our squires were a mass of mail and horseflesh.  Even had we been without swords many would have died.  With swords it was carnage.
    Some of the Scots stood, or tried to stand.  They were the oathsworn of the knight who wielded a double handed axe.  I turned Scout's head to take on this knight.  He did as I expected; he swung the axe at Scout's head.  I anticipated the move and jerked Scout to the side. I almost miscalculated for the axe took some hair from Scout's mane. I brought my sword down and it bit into the arm of the knight.  I broke through the mail and into his elbow. As soon as the tendons were severed the axe fell from his hand. Sir Harold took his head with a single stroke of his sword.
    I heard a roar from my left as Aethelred rushed from the burning house with the remnants of the villagers.  They fell upon the Scots; they hacked and chopped them apart. It was a wild fury I had rarely seen.  My father had often spoken of berserkers who would fight with similar fury. I dismounted and handed my reins to Wilfred. The villagers were hacking at bodies already dead.
    I sheathed my sword and put my arm on Aethelred's back, "Aethelred!"
    He turned and there was wildness in his eyes.
    "It is me, the Earl.  They are slain."
    He began to breathe more slowly, "I am sorry, lord.  They are savages." He pointed to the slaughtered children whose bodies lay in the track which ran through the village. "I was a soldier; there is no need for this."
    I nodded, "The Scots have taken much,  Hartness