Jarl Dragonheart is aging. His Ulfheonar are getting older too. Is it time for him to sheathe his sword and watch his grandchildren grow? When Klakke Blue Cheek, a Dane with grand ambitions, embroils Jarl Dragonheart in an attempt to take Wessex then all thoughts of peace are forgotten. In a fast-moving novel filled with battles and intrigue the Dragonheart finds parts of his past and those of his ancestors come to change his future.
The Dragonheart is getting older but he is still able to defeat those who threaten him and his family. This is another instalment in the Dragonheart series. Like the sixteen which preceded it the book is filled with life in the world of a Ninth Century Viking. There are links with his past which affect his future. There are more novels to come!
Excerpt
Ahead of us the three Saxon lines were given the order to lock shields. The second rank angled their shields over the heads of the front rank and the third rank completed it. The front rank dropped slightly so that one knee was on the ground and their shields protected their legs too. It was futile. Our two boar’s snouts would strike at two points in their line. Three spears would punch at a single spot. The weight of over two hundred warriors would be pushed against my back and we would break through.
They had more slingers behind their third rank and stones rattled like hail on our shields. We had been keeping pace with Klakke but, when we were just twenty paces from the Saxons I yelled, “Clan of the Wolf!” It was the signal to run or to move at a faster pace than we had. I had spied the spot we would hit.
It was the tiniest of gaps between two shields. As I punched forward I felt two spears strike my shield and a third strike my mail. I felt my spear strike something and I pushed. We were still moving and the Saxons were struggling to keep their line. Haaken and Olaf had fought together before and their spears hit the same place. They must have struck someone for I heard a cry. A spear came over from the third rank and struck my helmet. So long as it missed the eye hole then I was safe. Olaf had let go of his spear. He hooked the lower edge of his axe over the top of the Saxon shield and he pulled. He was a powerful man. The shield came down and Rollo’s spear found the man’s face. He punched so hard that the spear emerged out of the back of the Saxon’s skull showering the men behind with bone, blood and brains.
King Egbert had gambled that a three deep line would outflank ours and we would be surrounded. He had not expected a boar’s snout. A shield wall is only effective so long as it is whole. The dying warrior allied to the two who had been wounded meant that, in front of us, the shield wall was but two men deep. I pulled my spear back and rammed it as hard as I could into the gap. This time it did not strike mail. It struck flesh. Even as two spears and a sword struck my shield the man I had hit fell and I saw daylight behind him. I pulled back my arm and thrust to the left. There was no shield there and my spear went into the side of a man. It was a mortal wound and the Saxon fell. It was Olaf’s axe which finally decided this particular encounter. There was an eorledman exhorting his men to great deeds. It was from the safety of the second rank but the deaths of those before him meant that Olaf could swing his axe and it came down to split open the eorledman’s helmet and skull.
I shouted, “Einar, signal break wedge!”
Those around me heard and my men further back saw the standard as it was raised and lowered three times. We needed to exploit the hole in the line. Behind me Ostman Mortenson and Dargh Long Stride had their warriors still protected by shields. My spears would break asunder the shield wall and enlarge the hole. We needed to fall upon the rear line. Knowing that Olaf would protect my left I turned and rammed my spear towards the Saxon to my right. He turned to present his shield. My spear shattered against it but the gleeful expression faded when Rolf plunged his spear into his left side. I drew Ragnar’ Spirit, “The sword that was touched by the gods! For the Land of the Wolf!”
My men all heard the cry and they roared, “Land of the Wolf!” It was as vicious a weapon as a good sword. The sound and the fury put fear in the Saxon hearts and that is never the frame of mind in which you fight a battle… especially not with a Viking!
