Frige Awakens

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Foe-men flung themselves forward, four-deep.
Two ranks took all our fyrdmen, fully.
Scrappy scrums of slingers and such
were handy but helped not hardly enough.
The clashing and slashing, the shoving and gashing
hacking at helms, spears stabbing at feet.
Either side of me were steady men
yet we were giving ground, sliding slowly
to where the wide grasslands began
beyond the narrow neck, water warded.
They'd flank us fatally, break or bind us in
to a little ring, then laugh as we languished.
But our sniping  hunters hidden in the  reeds
with needlepoint bodkins*, Cynneweard had distributed,
shot shafts efficiently into the undefended -
no cowardice this but necessity to lessen
our jeopardy. Up jumped a feated foe
doom-driven lunatic, leaping shieldwall
to stab the back of the neck of my neighbour
he slumped and the berserker was besides us.
Instantly my little ones pounced upon him;
clothed in kids he went down to daggers.
Instinct killed two small assailants;
the other scraps scrambled swiftly away.
Backed corpses goodbye as we slowly slid,
for a bullish boy held the shield now.
Tears tangled. Shook them assuredly;
then knew what was coming as the press lessened.
Their back ranks were corridors to cover
the ram raiders.  Burly bastards,
fast  their legs flew with the punch on the pole.
Something seized me. I could hardly hold...
White light round my wrist
seemed a shield forming fast;
then the world was bullied by a blow that broke me.
Slow the silent time travailed;
ravencry arrayed me with merciless rasping
shattered me into shivers. The wind returned;
and I still stood there, the ram in ruins,
its bearers bruised, cast on the causeway.
Every weapon in wonder was held high.
Our side sighed at the sign of their salvation,
now wholehearted warriors of worth.
Snipers shot shafts to bite their bowmen.
Their big weapon worsted with Frige's fire,
they had no heart for a lost lark,
formed a wall to cover their fallback.
Greed would guard
future foreign forays -
no wergild* for weeping widow -
blood embittered but broke them.

..........................

*wergild - money paid for a lost life. A mixture of justice and compensation.


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