Sanctuary (Dominion) (18 page)

As the crowd finally thinned out, I saw a solitary figure at the back move to the edge of church. I saw him only for an instant before he disappeared around the corner, moving toward the annex, but his large frame and blonde hair was unmistakable.

Ewen.

My breath caught in my lungs, and I froze, trying to decide if I should run after him, and ask him every question on my mind, or to make sure he wasn’t about to run away again, but Deaga started closing the doors, marking the beginning of the ceremony. I could wait, I told myself. He was likely headed to the stables, back from wherever he'd hidden the day before. I would find him there, after the ceremony, and then we would talk.

After closing the doors, I followed Deaga to the front of the church. She moved over against the wall, by Agnes, while I stood behind Eadwyn, who was busy nodding to himself, reciting the ceremony again in his head. The commotion that came next started innocently enough. Eadwyn began the introductory rites, walking to the front of the congregation with a thick bible in his hands, the boys carrying incense behind him. Eadwyn began his prayer and I bowed my head, but instead of Eadwyn’s voice, I heard a frantic, unintelligible shout from outside the walls of the church. A few people turned their heads in annoyance – people should have the good manners not to shout near a church during Mass – but then put their attention back on Eadwyn.

Then bells chimed in the distance. Of course, bells chimed all morning when church was in service, and though this one was the largest in Eoferwic, it was not the only church in town. Two smaller churches sat at the east end of the city, just inside the walls, and a third in the south, across the river. They chimed their bells almost as much as we did, though theirs didn’t carry across the city nearly as well as ours.

Another shout from outside, and now people were genuinely curious. Eadwyn looked at Agnes, and she scurried to the back, out into the courtyard to see what the fuss was about. More shouting, and now everyone in the church turned this way and that, muttering to each other about what could be happening.

The front door flew open, and everyone turned to see a man standing at the entrance of the church, stooped over from exertion. He caught his breath, looked back at the stares defiantly, and spoke the words that sent fear into the heart of every man, woman and child within these hallowed walls.

"Vikings!" he shouted. "Vikings are here!"

Chapter 14

The ships appeared just after dawn, rowing up-river from the sea, their prows fixed with fearsome dragon heads that symbolized one thing - war. A guard in one of the eastern watchtowers saw them approach, but he failed to signal the attack right away because he thought the boats were too small to be Viking boats. He’d heard so many stories about fearsome, dragon-headed vessels carrying horrible armies of invaders that he didn’t recognize any threat from a typical Viking longboat until another guard came by to get a better look.

After the warning went out from the tower, word spread throughout the city, and when it reached the church, panic ensued. Wealthy mothers gathered their children and hurried out the door, seeking refuge in their homes, while the poorer families stayed, hoping the church would protect them. Eadwyn tried to keep peace, pleading for everyone to remain calm, but my first instinct was to see this attack with my own eyes. A throng of people were packed together at the front door, so I ran to the back, into the bishop’s office, and up the staircase that led to the top of the church tower. Once there, I slid through the bags, boxes and crates that filled the room and found the east window, a narrow slit in the stone, and looked out across the eastern half of the city. Sure enough, Viking longboats filled the river, maneuvering toward the shore. At least a dozen boats were already at the edges of the city, with two or three times that many still approaching.

The lead boat beached itself on the riverbank, and Vikings streamed over the sides and charged up to the wall, brandishing spears, swords and axes. I caught glimpses of city guards hurrying through the streets, pulling their armor on as they moved to the river and the eastern walls to defend. But as more boats reached the shore, it became apparent to me that the Vikings would soon outnumber the defenders. All the warnings and prognostications I’d heard these last few days were appallingly true. The Vikings were here, in Eoferwic. They’d come for our wealth, our women, our lives. And we had precious few men left to defend any of it.

I backed away from the window, staggered by the absurdity of escaping one violent attack in Rogwallow just to stumble into another. My leg kicked an etched, silver plate stacked on its side against a wooden crate, and it thumped loudly on the floor. I spun around, expecting that someone had either snuck up on me, or that I’d somehow alerted the entire city to my presence with that one crashing noise. I was alone, though, and I suddenly relished the feeling of solitude and protection this packed and cluttered room gave me. I wanted to stay up here and hide. I could cower amongst all these treasures stored away over the last several centuries, and hope the Vikings never found me.

But they would. This is the first place they’d go once they took the city. They’d search for treasure, and when they found it here, they would probably kill me, thinking I meant to hoard it all.

I thought of Rogwallow again, and how I’d stayed hidden away in the church while the raiders attacked. And just like that, the other similarities of these two days were no longer lost on me. Raiders were at our gates. Ewen spoke of a demon. The darkness I saw in his eyes. The signs had been plentiful, and today was the most obvious of them all. Could it be that I’d spent all this time worrying about finding Arkael just to have him come to me when he was most needed? Had Eoferwic been his destination all along? Suddenly, this room no longer felt safe and comforting. It seemed to me a prison, and I couldn’t bear to be stuck there any longer. I had to see if a champion was coming to save us.

I ran down the stairwell and into the church to find a crowd of the city’s poor pushing through the front doors. Eadwyn and Oslac both shouted at them now, trying to keep order, and Agnes rushed in from the back to help with her own booming voice. I watched the chaos, knowing I should stay and help. But I couldn’t resist the temptation of another miracle. So I ran out the back door, across the courtyard and out onto the street.

I reached the plaza to see everyone scurrying to their homes nearby, some of them barring their doors and windows, not that it would matter to a gang of angry Vikings. The main road into town was clear except for three armored men running east, where the defenses were gathering at the walls. I chased after the soldiers. I would go to the fight, too, and see if he came to us there.

“Daniel,” I heard Pepin shout behind me, “where are you going?”

“I need to see what’s happening.” I slowed down enough to let him catch up.

“A better idea than you think,” he said. “Vikings, they love churches. Not good to be around them when they go looking for treasure.”

We ran down the main market streets, crossing from one road to another, until we reached the southeastern wall. Over a hundred men stood packed together on the ramparts in front of us, shoulder to shoulder, two lines deep, while half that number more waited below. Bardic was there, wearing chain armor, a polished helm and waving a sword about while shouting incoherently at his men. I couldn’t be sure, but I think he wore the faceplate on his helm down to cover just how completely frightened and overwhelmed he felt.

Someone on the wall told Bardic that the Vikings were moving north on foot, and he yelled at the men on the ground to reinforce the northeastern wall. They swarmed up the road, a herd of hastily armored Northumbrians, with Pepin and I following close behind. I wanted to get on the wall, to get a view of the fields surrounding the town, but there was no room to climb up here, so I would try the northeastern section along with these men. 

The walls there were simple wood, sitting atop a large earthwork, with watchtowers about two hundred paces apart. The earthwork was an earthen wall created by digging a ditch, then piling the dirt on the defensive side, creating both a dip in the ground followed by a steep hill that attackers would have to navigate while defenders would rain down spears, axes and arrows on them. Wooden ramparts were built on the hill, giving the defenders an even higher defensive position. The first watchtower we passed had six men standing at the top, about two more than it was designed to hold. All of them stared off to the east, one pointing at the enemy in the distance and another, a commander of some rank, shouting down to the men below, ordering them onto the rickety walls. A few of the guards clambered up a nearby ladder, while the rest moved farther north. I held back, and motioned to the ladder, and though Pepin looked at me curiously at first, he eventually nodded in assent.

We climbed the ladder and stood on the ramparts, ignoring the stares of the guards next to us. To our east was a wide, grassy field, unencumbered by any obstacles, or even trees. A rutted stretch of mud meandered northeast from the city, cutting along the northern edge of the field, and parked a good distance down that road were two or three hundred Viking warriors, on foot, gathering into lines. Based on every story I’d been told so far, I’d expected them to be a mindless, rampaging throng of savages, but that’s not what I saw this morning. They gathered into their formation like practiced warriors. I could see the zeal they had for battle in their posture and gait, but they also showed respect for tactics and leadership. Somehow, that made them even more fearsome.

“Father?” The guard next to me pulled off his scratched and battered helm. “Will you pray with me?”

“Of course,” I said distractedly, scanning the horizon for any lone warriors approaching. I saw none, unfortunately, so I knelt down next to the guard, closed my eyes and said a prayer, not realizing until after I’d finished that two other guards had joined us. Afterwards, I made the sign of the cross and told them to go with God, for He stood with us this day. “He will protect us from the heathens.” They nodded in thanks and moved back to their spots on the wall, staring grimly ahead. I looked at the rest of the defenders, standing to either side of us, and I realized that not all of these warriors would survive this battle. The significance of the moment struck me, and I didn't feel comfortable waiting on the wall with these men. I'd come up here just to get a better view, to satiate my own curiosity. Everyone else up here was prepared to die. So, after one last look around, I left the wall, along with Pepin, and we waited below instead.

“The wood’s rotted over here,” the commander from the watchtower yelled down to some men still on the ground, gesturing wildly. “If they reach the wall when they charge, they'll tear right through it. Get extra men lined up there, now!”

As the soldiers below ran off to find reinforcements, I examined the walls myself and realized that the commander’s description might have been generous. Only some of the wood was rotted. Portions of the rest had been replaced with thatch, which could easily be torn out or burned. Pepin saw it too, and he grimaced. Before today, the walls seemed sturdy, protecting, comforting, and I never thought twice about them. Now, with my life on the line, I had little faith in them holding up against an army intending to tear them down.

“We need to hide,” Pepin said. I nodded in agreement, but I didn’t move. Not yet. My urge to see what came next overrode all thoughts of safety.

Men roared in unison from some place far outside the city, and every sound and movement around me ceased. The defenders on the walls rigidly stared off in the distance, their hands anxiously gripping their weapons. The few whose eyes I could see seemed to be either scared as they watched their enemy approach, or in awe. The roar grew louder and more ominous, and a chilling image came to me of the Viking host charging forward, their weapons high, though in truth I had no idea what a Viking charge looked like. The guards slowly inched away from the wall, their spears or swords ready but their will waning. Three bowmen were among the defenders, and all three loosed their arrows at the same time, then they fired again, and again. Some of the defenders cheered as those arrows found targets, but most of them just stood ready, tense, waiting for what might be the end of their lives.

I felt the crush of bodies without even seeing it. I heard screams, grunts, battle cries, and metal clanging against metal. The walls in front of me buckled for a moment, sending a ripple in either direction. The guards lunged forward, jabbing downward with their weapons, their own mouths crying out in defiance. One fell backward, crashing to the ground behind the wall, an axe lodged in his chest. He reached for it weakly, trying in vain to do something about it, but that effort lasted only a moment before his hands fell lifelessly to his side. Suddenly, the walls shuddered and cracked. I backed away, terrified, as blades tore through the wall, carving through the rotted wood like flesh, or ripping out pieces of thatch. One piece of wood split in half, and as it fell a pair of wild blue eyes watched me through the hole it left. They weren't as black as Caenwyld's or as crazed as Ewen, but the intensity they contained frightened me nonetheless.

"They're getting in!" I shouted to anyone who would listen. The guards on the ground had already formed into a haphazard line, and they pushed forward. The commander from the tower called out and more soldiers climbed down and formed rough lines behind the others, as they worked to defend the crumbling walls. The men in front stood side by side, overlapping their shields to form a shield wall, while those in the back readied their spears, which they would use to jab over and under the defenders in front. When the Vikings broke through the wooden wall, they would find a human wall behind it, and the fate of this city would depend on how sturdy these Northumbrians could be in the face of such ferocity. As more and more pieces of the wall fell, however, I saw an insatiable hunger on the faces of the Vikings - not hunger for food, but for spoils - and I doubted that they could be stopped.