The machines fired in alternating ranks, so a steady flight of boulders streaked through the air. Ulfrik laughed at the ease with which the machines flung rocks that took four men to lift. It was like watching giants at play. The Danes did not cease in their cheering and shouting. Ulfrik and his men added to the din, delighting in the massive wave of noise they shot at the Franks.
The last machine slammed forward and ejected its boulder, which skimmed the stone bridge and bit off a section of its guarding walls. Then silence and stillness descended, like the passing of a furious storm. A horn blew three times from the lead ship on the river. Oars extended and dipped into the water, and the fleet was on the move.
"Ready yourselves," Ulfrik called to his men. "The ships will cover our approach with bow fire, so the order to attack is coming."
Ulfrik looked to Mord, whose eyes were wide with childlike amazement. Then he turned to Snorri, who simply nodded his grim determination. Others in his block included Thrand, Ander, and several other of his trusted crew. Toki led the other block, along with Einar. None of them had stormed a wall before. None of them knew what waited at the tower. Yet all of them trusted and protected each other. All of them were brothers in war, and their lives were bound together. Ulfrik swallowed hard, knowing many of them would die. He could only pray death would come swiftly for those so fated.
Sigfrid's banner waved, and the deep bass note of his horn sounded.
"Pick up your ladders and move!" Ulfrik shouted the command and grabbed a rung of the ladder. Despite its size, it felt weightless as he lifted it along with the others. Rough wood bit his sweating palms. He looped his right arm into his shield and joined the march.
After the first dozen yards, Ulfrik began to jog to keep pace with the line converging on the tower. Then the jog increased to a run. Men shouted, and the tower drew ever closer, higher than anything he had ever seen. Solid as a mountain. Still as forest glade.
He bellowed, an animal shout from the pit of his gut. He released his fear and fury, spilling it to the tower, and his spirit rose. His men added their voices to his. Their feet thumped into the soft earth, shaking the ground with the thousands of others pounding for the tower.
The sound of a linen sheet tearing came from the right flank and a shadow passed over him. Arrows fired from the ships choking the river. More arrows than Ulfrik could conceive being shot at once. A black cloud of death arcing to the tower.
"We're almost there." His breath was labored, his heart pounded. The fat gray stones of the tower drew up before him. "Get your shields up. Don't wait."
Arrows clattered down the sides of the walls, missing their marks and piling at the foot of the tower. Sigfrid's line was already setting up their ladders while Knut led his force to sweep to the north face of the tower and still nothing from the defenders.
Another black wave of arrows screamed overhead, and Ulfrik pulled his shield up from reflex.
"They're going to surrender!" Mord screeched triumphantly. "They're afraid to fight!"
Distant but clear notes of a horn sounded.
"Shield wall!"
The Franks answered the call to battle, leaping to the battlements with bows ready. Their arrows sliced down into the rich field of enemy targets. Ulfrik spotted a column of men stutter and collapse as white-fletched arrows fell among them, then he ducked behind his shield.
Their run slowed to a jog. Arrows stitched the earth around Ulfrik's feet, then a few thumped his shield. He further slowed his run, but those behind crashed into him.
"We don't want to be the first. Let others take the brunt of the defense."
"What? We should be first in glory!" Mord pulled at the ladder in protest, huddling in the darkness of the shield wall.
"I lead to win and to live. Do as I say." Ulfrik peeked out from his shield to see Toki had mimicked his pace. Whatever his faults, Ulfrik could always depend on Toki to be smart in battle.
"That was the brunt," Mord continued. "Let's not miss the fight."
The Franks answered for Ulfrik. Arrows clattered on their shields like hail. Their pace became as men in a blizzard. They pulled their shields tight, and the arrows streamed without end. Bodkins pierced the wood. One popped through a thumb's width from Ulfrik's face. The tip lodged in the cheek plate of his helmet.
The sound of arrows hissing and screaming back and forth overhead was unearthly, like a windstorm from the cold plains of Nifleheim. His mouth had become so dry he feared his tongue would split. Screams of dying and wounded men encircled them. He knew they were at the final approach to the tower by the number of corpses they had to dance over. Under the shield wall smelled like ale and urine. Someone retched on himself, and further fouled the air.
"We're here! Run the ladder up. Hurry!"
Ulfrik forgot every instruction on using the ladder. The moment the shield wall parted, he looked skyward to a wall that must reach the clouds. Hundreds of battles had not prepared him for this.
An arrow clipped his helmet with enough force to knock it over his face. Shoving it back, he roared again, and pulled the ladder forward. "Keep the angle shallow! Move!"
Ladders were already placed and men were clambering toward the defenders atop the tower. Some had placed their ladders too steep, and the defenders waited for men to get halfway up before shoving the ladders back with long poles. He watched one shove away, balance vertically as men screamed, then collapse back into the crowd. Howls of agony combined with the thud and crunch of the bodies slamming into the ground.
Holding his shield overhead, he guided the ladder with one hand. Two of his men came forward with support beams to brace it. Before he could order them, one spun away with an arrow shaft through his eye. He collapsed atop the beam just as the ladder came to rest.
"Get up as fast as you can!" Ulfrik grabbed Mord by his mail sleeve and all but threw him on the ladder. "The more men on it, the harder for them to push it back. Go!"
He scurried to retrieve the brace. He refused to look at his man's face as he twitched in the grass. Instead, he grabbed the man's hand and forced it from gripping the arrow shaft and onto his sword hilt. At least he would go to Valhalla. As the body slumped in death, Ulfrik struggled to roll it aside, but holding his arrow-studded shield overhead made the work twice as hard. Glancing to check Mord's progress, he was not far along and the ladder already tilted to the unbraced side.
Dumping his shield, he took both hands to roll the corpse aside. The sky darkened, and he looked up to find Snorri holding a shield over him.
"You'll get yourself killed, you old fool!"
"Hurry up," was all Snorri said, and huddled closer to Ulfrik while trying to cover both of them with his shield.
Ulfrik shook his head and dragged the dead man off the beam. Despite the weight of his mail coat, he flopped aside like a child's doll. Ulfrik's arms trembled with fighting rage, and anger at his own fear. He scooped up the heavy timber beam and dragged it to the ladder. Wedging it in place with Snorri's aid, the ladder straightened. Mord continued his climb, awkwardly trying to hold his shield before the pelting arrows. Men lined behind him, moving at a steady crawl.
Retrieving his own shield, he surveyed the field. Toki was leading his ladder, and nearly traversed half the distance to the top. To his left, Hrolf strode from ladder to ladder, shouting encouragement and threats. His shield bristled with arrows, but his sword was drawn and pointing to the top. Ulfrik's gaze followed it up.
Arrows slid down the walls; missed shots from the ranks of Danish archers. Dust and debris washed down the sides, combining with the broken arrows to form a waterfall of shattered junk. Helmets plummeted, lost weapons clanged against the stone as they fell. Worst of all, men tumbled from the walls shrieking and wailing through the long fall.