Storm of War

Peter Gibbons

Description

The fight for a torn Kingdom rests in the hands of a few brave men…

990AD.
King Aethelred II, who men will one day call The Unready, rules over a land divided by the shadowy spin of his mother Queen Ælfthryth and the sprawling power of the Church.
The Viking Warlord, Olaf Tryggvason smelling the Kingdoms weakness brings the vicious Jomsvikings to the Saxon coastline ravenous for war and plunder.
Together Lord Byrthnoth, Ealdorman of the East Saxons and Beornoth his Saxon Thegn lead a force of oath sworn Viking killers, every bit as brutal and war-skilled as the Norse invaders to protect the Kingdom against enemies both from within, and from the cruel seas. They are pushed to the very limits of their bravery and endurance in a desperate fight for the very existence of the Saxon Kingdom.
In a riveting story of treachery, betrayal, vengeance and war, can Beornoth defeat his enemies and protect the Kingdom from destruction?
Storm of War continues the unmissable Viking historical fiction saga series which began with Peter Gibbons' Warrior & Protector.

If you like Bernard Cornwell, Simon Scarrow, Conn Iggulden, and David Gemmell you will love this epic Saxon adventure packed with battles, Vikings, and adventure.

Praise for Peter Gibbons:

'Epic, brutal action, a flawed hero defending his people while fighting his own demons, implacable ruthless invaders, treacherous nobles, Warrior and Protector has them all'- Matthew Harffy

'Bloody and brutal, everything you want from a novel about 10th century England. Peter's vivid writing really brings the story to life.' - Donovan Cook

'A superbly atmospheric tale of redemption that pitches the English against Viking raiders and resounds with the fierceness of battle-hardened warriors' - MJ Porter

'Thunderously atmospheric! Gibbons once again proves himself a master of Viking & Dark Age lore.' - Gordon Doherty

'Absolutely cracking. The best Viking saga I've read in years. A joy to pick up again.' - Ross Greenwood

Sujets

• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Cultural Heritage
• Historical Fiction
• World Literature
• Historical
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Sea story
• General officer
• Ancient history
• Æthelred the Unready
• General
• Ancient
• Family Life
• War
• Fiction
• Europe

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 07 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804834640
• Langue: English

Extrait

STORM OF WAR


PETER GIBBONS
Byrhtnōð mid beornum; hē mid bordum hēt
wyrċan þone wīhagan and þæt werod healdan
fæste wið fēondum. Þā wæs feohte nēh
tīr æt ġetohte. Wæs sēo tīd cumen
þæt þǣr fǣġe men feallan sceoldon.
Þǣr wearð hrēam āhafen. Hremmas wundon,
earn ǣses ġeorn. Wæs on eorþan ċyrm.


Byrhtnoth and his men, ready and waiting: he ordered them
To make the battle fence formation with their shields and
hold it
Firmly against their enemies. Then it was near to fighting,
glory in battle. The time had come
when fated men must fall.
A clamour was raised, ravens circled,
eagle ready for carrion; on earth there was noise.

AN EXCERPT FROM ‘THE BATTLE OF MALDON’, AN ANGLO-SAXON POEM WRITTEN TO CELEBRATE THE BATTLE FOUGHT AT MALDON IN 991AD
CONTENTS



Glossary


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34


Acknowledgments

Historical Note

More from Peter Gibbons

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
GLOSSARY



Burh A fortification designed by Alfred the Great to protect against Viking incursions


Byrnie Saxon word for a coat of chainmail


Danelaw The part of England ruled by the Vikings from 865AD


Drakkar A type of Viking Warship


Ealdorman The leader of a shire of the English Kingdom, second in rank only to the King


Einherjar Vikings who have died in battle and have ascended to Valhalla


Heriot The weapons, land and trappings of a Thegn or other noble person, granted to him by his Lord and which becomes his will or inheritance


Hide An area of land large enough to support one family. A measure used for assessing areas of land


Holmgang A ritualised duel common amongst Viking peoples


Njorth The Viking Sea God


Odin The father of the Viking Gods


Ragnarök The end of days battle where the Viking Gods will battle Loki and his monster brood


Reeve Administer of justice ranking below a Thegn


Seax A short, single-edged sword with the blade angled towards the point


Snekke A type of Viking Warship, smaller than a drakkar


Thegn Owner of five hides of land, a church and kitchen, a bell house and a castle gate, who is obligated to fight for his Lord when called upon


Thor The Viking Thunder God


Týr The Viking War God


Valhalla Odin’s great hall where he gathers dead warriors to fight for him at Ragnarök


Vik Part of Viking Age Norway


Weregild Compensation to be paid, for example to the family of a person who has been killed


Witanagemot Meeting of the Kings Council
1
990AD

Beornoth was hunting Vikings. It was a still day in early summer. There had been a chill to the morning, but now the sun broke through patches of milky cloud to warm Beornoth’s neck. He listened to a sparrow’s call in the trees and nudged his warhorse forward to the edge of the rise. His leather saddle and belt creaked as the horse plodded forward, nodding its head and snorting into the leaf mulch beneath its hooves. Beornoth patted the horse’s muscled neck and leant forward to scratch his ear.
‘It’s quiet, Lord, no smoke or screams,’ said Alfgar. The young warrior stood next to Beornoth holding a spear and shield and peering over the lip of the forest’s edge where it fell away into a steep slope thick with brown and green bracken.
‘It’s because we are too late. The damage here is done,’ said Beornoth, sighing heavily.
Beornoth waited at the edge of a copse, looking down into a shallow valley. The Vikings had landed a half-day march away on the coast, having sailed their fleet of fifty warships from their base in the broad estuary of the River Severn, which separated the shire of Somerset in Wessex from the headlands of Glywysing in Gwent, home of the Welsh. At the bottom of the valley and nestled between fields of ripening green crops was a village of five wattle buildings topped with damp grey thatch.
‘I can see movement down there.’ Alfgar pointed his bright spear towards the village, where armed men milled around the buildings with the ease that comes from the confidence of safety. But the men down there were not safe. They were as unsafe as the West Saxon villagers of that place had been before the Northmen had come to their homes with axes, hunger, vicious greed. The Northmen were not safe because Beornoth had come for them. They were Vikings and felt secure in the cloak of their army, which had landed in the River Parrett north of Athelney a week earlier. With so many ships the Viking fleet would be two thousand warriors strong, but this village contained only a handful of raiders. The Northmen swaggered through the captured village, villagers either fled or taken as slaves, gathering whatever valuables they could find. Beornoth’s tongue poked around the gap in his teeth where an arrow had punched through his face years earlier. He watched the Northmen and their confidence angered him. He imagined them laughing at the West Saxons and their weakness, at how simple it had been to land their fleet and strike into the lush countryside to take whatever they wished. And it had been easy, until now. The Ealdorman of Somerset had sent urgent word to King Æthelred that the Viking army plagued his lands, and King Æthelred, alarmed at the size of the enemy force, had sent word to Ealdorman Byrhtnoth of Essex to bring his men, his Viking killers, to Somerset and expel the cursed heathen force. King Æthelred II ruled over the English from his seat at Winchester, and had done so since he was twelve years old. He was a descendant of Alfred the Great, a King of the House of Wessex, and the Ealdormen from Northumbria to Cornwall were sworn to his service. Beornoth had been summoned from his home at Branoc’s Tree, and had brought his warriors to join with Byrhtnoth’s hearth troop to march west. Beornoth was a Thegn of the East Saxons, and Byrhtnoth was his Ealdorman. That had been three days ago.
‘Take the spearmen and follow the treeline north,’ said Beornoth. ‘Come down into the valley along that line of hedge. I will wait until the sun is above me and will meet you in the village.’
‘You will ride alone?’ asked Alfgar.
‘Just me and Wulfhere.’
‘Should we not wait for Ealdorman Byrhtnoth?’
‘He rides west to join Somerset’s fyrd, so we bring two shires’ worth of warriors to the fight. We will punish the bastards here first, and then we will join him.’
‘But Lord…’ Alfgar started, but then noticed Beornoth’s frown and nodded his understanding of the order. Alfgar barked a command and twenty spearmen followed him at a quick marching pace, their boots rustling in the undergrowth.
Beornoth waited until the sun had shifted in the sky, and until Alfgar and his spearmen filed down the thick strip of briar hedging which ran from the valley peak opposite him and down into the village itself to separate a pasture from a field filled with bright yellow rapeseed. He clicked his tongue and his warhorse, Ealdorbana, picked its way down the hillside. Ealdorbana meant ‘life destroyer’, and the name was fitting because he was the largest warhorse Beornoth had ever seen. He was every bit as brutal as his rider, and trained for war. Blood and weapons would not frighten the animal, and nor would the noise and terror of battle.
‘They’ve seen us, Lord,’ said Wulfhere, his hulking frame riding a piebald mare. A handful of men gathered on the fringe of the village, close to a pigsty, and pointed at the approaching riders. ‘How many of them did you say there were?’
‘I didn’t.’ Beornoth didn’t care how many Vikings were in the village. They had hurt peaceful Saxon people who worked the land with bent backs to scratch a living for their families and King. Now Beornoth was here to hurt them in return, and he would kill or injure as many as he could.
‘Let’s hope we aren’t outnumbered then.’ Wulfhere shook his bald head and drew his axe from its saddle sheath. More Vikings emerged from between the houses. They wore hard baked-leather breastplates and carried axes or spears. ‘I don’t see any mail or swords amongst them.’
‘Looters and pillagers then. Not warriors.’
There were twenty Vikings gathering outside the village, and a big man barged his way through them. He had two war axes, one leaning on each shoulder, and he smiled at Beornoth. His head was shaved along the sides, and a long blonde plait ran from the top of his head down his back. Beornoth dragged his sword free of its scabbard. He allowed the blade to scrape on the wood throat beyond the fleece lining and held the blade at his side. With his sword, byrnie and warhorse, the Vikings saw a Lord of War. Only the wealthiest and most successful warriors could afford such weapons. They were the signal of power and skill at war. The sword was also a warning. Beornoth kept Ealdorbana at a slow trot to allow the Vikings to watch him approach, for them to see and judge his war gear. The sword was his tool, his dealer of death, and he wanted the Vikings to see who was before them. Beornoth was a killer and a protector of his people. He was a Saxon Thegn, and he wanted the Vikings to understand that he came for justice, that he came to wreak vengeance upon them for the Saxons they had wronged.
‘The mail and sword are mine,’ barked the axeman in Norse. ‘I’ll take the leader, you others take the baldy one.’
‘You have killed peaceful people who could not defend themselves. You must think yourselves brave men, killing farmers and taking their women and children as slaves. I have come to kill you all, so say your pray