A continuing of the saga....

Well, before I continue on with my earlier tale, I wish to point out that all fiction posted on this blog is the intellectual property of myself, Jared Gamaliel Juckiewicz, and the characters belong to Lamia Macdonald and are used with her permission.

Having finished with such detailly things... here be the next step in the saga of the Redjay and the Bear

The summer had been, for lack of a better word, Fun. They spent it riding with the Norsemen for whom they now worked, taking the dragonship all up and down the east coast of the breton isles. As when they had sailed on a merchant ship, they put in at every village that looked big enough to have goods of value. However, unlike when they had sailed on a merchant ship, this time they weren't there to trade.
The procedure was simple. A Norse longship was shallow of draft. The crew would run it up as far up the beach as they could. This meant hard work for those on the oars, a task spared only for the best fighters on board. And that meant proving oneself in battle. Amongst the Norsemen and not against them. So, the first few villages found the Redjay and the Bearsark being amongst the last into the fight. Not a feeling either of them were used to. Anyway, the boat would run right up, beach itself as far up the shore as it could. Then, Sven, the norse captain, would leave over the bow, followed by his Huscarls, his strongest warriors. They would rush into the village, and once there, would demand tribute. Such valuables as the inhabitants had, and supplies, but not slaves. Sven didn't hold with the idea. No Man, he would say, should own another. They would slay no man without provocation, but they would respond violently to the slightest hint of aggression, and the rest of the crew would be following them.
Also unlike their previous trip up the coastline, the Norsemen would put in at abbeys and monasteries. Their intent was not peaceful. Much of the wealth of britain was kept in such places, decorations of gold and silver and gems hidden behind plain stone walls, simple brown robes, and ponds of mullet and carp. Some such places, by this point were almost fortresses, and there, there the acts of the Norsemen were different. They would run up the beach as they always did, the Huscarls vaulting over as soon as the water was no deeper on a man than his waist. And yes, as always, the Huscarls would head up towards their goal first. But it was at that point that they began to do things differently. If they could, the Huscarls would take the gates, but if they couldn't, well, in the Longboat, they had grapnels, and knotted ropes of braided sealskin. The Huscarls would signal the ship with horns, and the rest of the crew, rushing up would bring these tools. That, and no Norseman would be caught without his Axe, making the furnishing of a ram rather easy.
Sven would hold his men off till a Ram was prepared, and then he would give the word. At that point, those who figured a ram would work best went for the gate, and those who figured grapnels would work tried to go over the walls. And it was in one such battle that the two outlaws both ensured they would remain that way for ever...
You see, The wall at this Abbey was not more than eight foot high. Less than twice as high as a man. And looking at it, the Redjay and the Bear glanced at each other. 'Are You Thinking What I'm Thinking?' The Redjay asked. The Bear nodded. They then proceeded to grab a coil of rope. It got knotted around the Bears waist, he unslung the round boss shield he'd been given, drew his axe, and the pair of them ran at the wall. At the last moment, the Bear lept, catching his foot on the wall. As the Redjay ran up behind him, her cupped hands caught under his other foot, and she lifted it as high as she could. His shield hooked over the wall, caught in between a pair of crenellations. The beard on his axe caught over the rim, and he hauled himself up, hopping down onto the rampart. As soon as he was stable, he roared defiance and struck out, feeling the tug on his waist as his companion started up.
He braced his heels against the crenellations, wielding his shield as a weapon, his axe cleaving through flesh and bone almost effortlessly. The tugs on his waist came quickly, even as he slaughtered the poorly armed monks who stood against him. The few knights who had been at the abbey were all before the gate, waiting for the ram to get through, and most of the other defenders were worrying about the grapnels. Within seconds, the Redjay was up on the rampart behind him. She drew her sword and unslung her shield as the Bear stepped forward, and then she hopped down, striking the rope from his back, such that he had a tail of but a foot, rather than ten. Together, they struck down those around them, and turned and rushed to the gatehouse. She with the crenellations on her left struck down those who stood before her, whilst the Bear simply hooked the neck or the side or the leg of any ahead of him and yanked them over the edge of the wall. Within moments they were in the gatehouse, and moments later it was cleared.
There were two capstans, pointing in and meeting at a point where the middle of the gates would be. Were the doors not barred, the gates could be swung open. Luckily, the bar was tied to a pulley in the gatehouse, and as the gate shuddered under another impact from the ram, they pulled it up, just enough that when they dropped it, it fell outside the hooks. As the ram pulled back for another blow, they got behind the capstans, and heaved the doors open. The Huscarls and the knights both were taken by surprise, even more so as the pair flung open the shutters and lept out, landing heavily with knees bent. The moment of hesitation passed, and the Huscarls began to rush past them as they straightened, letting none know of the pain in their legs and knees. Once the gates were open, it was a slaughter. Every defender died, and the treasures of the abbey fell into the keeping of the Norsemen. Not a single one of the Vikingr had died, and few of them were even wounded, all due to the Redjay and the Bear.
After that, theirs was the right to come off the ship just behind Sven, theirs the right to first pick of the loot. No one else could fight longer than that pair, but soon, their strength would be tested. Until now they had raided english villages and abbeys, and whilst that people was not exactly week, repeated invasions had beaten much of the fight out of them. Now though, they sailed further north, into Scottish waters, and the Scottish clans had not an ounce of yield in them. From thence, to Orkney, and then further to the Faroes, before they would strike east for Norway as the season drew to its close.