Battle of the Serpent Plain

Fifteen snows had come and gone on the Iron Mountains since Tharvol "Gauk" Tharvolson , Thane of the Wolf clan, decided that Baron Njal Mac Allen was not leading the people as he should. Gauk, which means "claw" in the old northern hill language, had been steadily courting and building up a following within the war-like hill tribes in the western mountains of the Mac Allen lands. Gauk and the chieftains that supported him saw Baron Njal’s increased communications with the southern countries as a weakness which could taint the fierce Mac Allen blood-line and way of life. Gauk had also heard of some secret divergence that Njal was involved in which would put the Mac Allen lands in times of great danger and change.

The tribes of the Wolf, which was Gauk’s own people, the Otter, Boar, Hawk and Deer all threw their support behind Tharvolsson. Only the Bear and Eagle clans of the mountains and Horse and Fox clans of the central lowlands refused to side with him. The chieftains of the Bears, Horse and Fox sent their warriors to the Mac Allen capital Volsung to aid the Baron Njal, whilst the Eagle clan, strangely for such a war-like people, stayed resolutely in their fortress.

To know why the Eagle clan, who traditionally supplied many warriors to be the Baron Mac Allen’s Housecarls (Huskarls) or elite bodyguard, did not aid their Lord, we must tread the muddy Mac Allen roads back in time another twenty-six years. For it was then that the new Baron Njal promised the Lady Anala, his sister, in marriage to the reaver Gauk.

However, the Lady Anala and the Thane of the Eagle clan, Grull, had known each other from childhood and had grown to love each other. It was assumed, by both parties, that one day they would be married. Baron Njal saw a way however that he could watch Gauk, perhaps even control him, and proposed a marriage between Anala and the Wolf clan leader. Gauk was pleased to accept the arrangement for Anala was small, dark and very beautiful, a change from the Wolf clan women who, though many were lovely, were fair-haired and shield-maidens in every way, as good as their men-folk and fighting, brawling and drinking. The Lady Anala was devestated and Grull of the Eagles swore no oath fealty to Njal that New Year’s Feast, as was the custom. In fact the Eagle clan came no more to the feasts at Volsung, and although their tithes were always paid they kept to their own lands.

So it was that Anala was married to Gauk, who gained the title of Earl of Nordlund, and tried to treat her well in his own rough way but she hated him, and eventually that hate soured the marriage. Grull eventually married a fair maiden from the Bear clan who though she died in her labours, bore him probably the greatest warrior of his age, Ulf Grullson. The Eagle chieftain grew bitter and dour over the following years, taking joy only in his strong warrior son.

Anala bore Gaul two sons, Vorn who was like his father blonde, tall and strong, and Morgrym, small and dark as his mother. Many years later, ever at odds with his father and brother, Morgrym was sent to live with his uncle Njal, and he was sent many times to the Eagle clan to repair the rift. This he was not able to do, but Grull liked the lad for he was of Anala’s blood and in time he saw Morgrym and Ulf become firm friends.

So, in the Mac Allen lands civil war was loping broodingly across the land through the fogs and mists of early spring. Gauk moved his army eastwards. Njal was still mustering his forces and was unable to stop the invaders at the crossing of the Serpent river, but planned to halt their advance below the hills of the capital Volsung, on the rolling pasture lands of the Serpent plain. The two armies readied themselves for what was to come.

The day of the battle dawned grey and wet, the smoke from the rebels campfires drifted horizontally southwards across the Serpent Plain. Gauk had mustered fully 6000 warriors from the hill clans, though his holding Nordlund followed the urgings of the Lady Anala and sided with Njal. The numbers of the hill tribes were swollen by 1500 baying orc mercenaries led by their leader Grash, who were promised plunder and land. Also aiding Gauk and his elder son Vorn, were 500 dark-skinned warriors from a land called Maya, which lay across the sea. Gauk’s Wolf clan troops were set in the center, howling and crashing their swords on their shields as was their custom. On the left flank were the salivating, cursing orcs whilst the right was manned by the orderly and well-drilled Mayans.

The banner of the Black Wolf flew over the rebel army.

The Baron’s forces were led by Morgrym who would not let his uncle take the field as he was still recovering from an illness that had laid him low during the winter. Morgrym arranged the bulk of his army in the center which was fronted by the ferocious housecarls. His right flank he gave to the lowland Mac Allens and those of Nordlund. The left flank of the Baron’s forces were formed of the Mac Allens of the southern lowlands. These were the men and women of the Iron Lake, Hogran and Ravenseye. With them stood the doughty dwarven warriors of the Dwarf King of the Iron Mountains. The Baron’s forces numbered 5000 warriors and over them the Red Raven banner cracked in the wind.

Gauk’s troops attacked first, the Mayan mercenaries tentatively pushing against the right flank of Morgrym’s army. The initial skirmishes were indecisive with only light casualties on either side. The orcs however were becoming impatient to join in the fray and eventually with a howl they ran forward into the left flank of the defenders. Gauk cursed, for he had wanted to goad Morgrym into making the first decisive move. The orks pounded against the Mac Allen and Dwarf line but the line held. Morgrym ordered the Housecarls on the left of his centre to move against the orc flank. This the well-trained troops did with the result that the orcs took massive losses and broke. Not wishing to face the ferocity of the Mac Allens the orcs fled the battlefield. With a cheer the dwarves and Mac Allens held their swords and axes high.

Gauk was now faced with a dilemma. He knew he now had to move fast or the panic could spread, but he did not want to commit his Wolf clan at that time. He debated with his chieftains for a few moments then with a snarl he knew that he must strike immediately to stop the route. Shouting his battle cry he led his main force into the defenders shield wall. The orcs seeing their main force attacking returned to the fight. There then followed an hour of bloody battle.

A gentle rain had begun, making the battlefield soft and treacherous. Gradually the superior numbers of Gauk’s forces began to wear down the defenders and little by little the defending forces were pushed back to the walls of Volsung. Morgrym held the tattered remnants of his army together as best he could, tirelessly moving up and down his battle lines, shouting, cursing and cajoling, always shadowed by the Dark Elf Raven, assigned by the Baron to protect his nephew.

Njal watched the carnage from the hill above the plain with Melgrim, his councillor. He longed to be down there with the ragged defenders of his capital, but he was still weak with the vestiges of his fever and he would only be a liability. Besides his nephew was fighting like a man possessed so that even Raven was finding it hard to stay at his shoulder.

Suddenly the Baron’s eyes caught the movement of a large dark shape moving in the gloom of the plain to the rear of Gauk’s army. As the amorphous shape drew closer Njal could make out banners fluttering in the light wind, he caught the flash of light on well-burnished armour - it was at least 2000 warriors running at a steady pace towards the battle. Who were they? At first Njal could not make out the banners, then on the largest, held at the front of the approaching force, he could see the outstretched wings of an eagle. The Eagle clan had come out of the mists to the killing grounds. Njal slumped in his saddle suddenly very tired. It was now clear to him that Grull had come with his warriors to avenge the slight of all those years ago. The tattered remnants of Volsung could not hope to hold against the Wolf and Eagle clans. The Baron Mac Allen pulled himself up in his saddle and dropped the nasal bar on his helm into place. He made to spur his horse forward, he would die with his men in battle and lead then into Kir’s Drinking Halls. At his side however, Melgrim seemed untroubled and if he had turned to look Njal would have seen him smiling.

Njal reined in his steed. The Eagle clan had reached the rear of Gauk’s army but instead of moving through them, they were smashing them, pounding with sword, hammer and axe. Grull and his son Ulf were leading their men to the aid of the defenders.

It transpired that several Eagle clan villages had been raided, their inhabitants butchered, a couple of days before, by warriors wearing Wolf Clan devices. Grull had decided to put aside his grievance with Njal for retribution against the Wolves. It was only many years later that Morgrym learnt that the attacks were actually orchestrated by Melgrim using mercenaries dressed as Wolf clan in order to bring the Eagle clan into the battle on the Baron’s side. It was after learning this that Morgrym began to suspect and investigate many of the actions of his uncle.

The orcs fled almost immediately closely followed by the Mayans. Soon there were only warriors of the Wolf clan left, fighting in a well-trained, ferocious unit around their Thane. Morgrym fought his way to confront and kill first his brother and then his father. The remnants of the Wolf clan were allowed to leave to return to their homes. However Njal, a few days later, ordered them all killed and it was only the secret intervention of Morgrym and the Dark Elf Raven, that enabled most of them to flee Mac Allen to live in exile for the next few years.

After the Battle of the Serpents Plain, old friendships, long overdue, were renewed. Baron Njal Mac Allen and Thain Grull Varson shook hands and drank ale as comrades once more. The Lady Anala now a widow, renewed her friendship with the grizzled old warrior and they arranged to marry the following year. Tragedy struck however when Anala caught the fever in the winter and died. Grull followed her barely three months later - some say caused by his broken heart.

Ulf continued the work of his father and with Morgrym’s help successfully reformed the hill tribes into loyal clans once more. Morgrym however, never really trusted his uncle again and stayed in contact with the remnants of the Wolf Tribe until he became Baron after Njal’s mysterious murder in MacBoar land. The rest as they say is history...............

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The Death of a Hero

The noise of the celebrations filtered through into the tent and were then muffled as if by the warm darkness therein. A single low-burning lamp spread its wan light within the canvas chamber, barely illuminating the two figures that were the tent’s sole occupants.

The first of these sat on a low stool facing the centre of the circular battlefield tent. His close-cropped head was bowed and rested on hands that were smeared and smudged with patches of dried blood. He wore black plate-mail armour, which was rent, in several places and the shirt worn beneath was stained to a darker red than it originally had been by the gore that had soaked into it. On the floor near his booted feet lay a belt and scabbard in which lay a sword. Another, larger, hand-and-a half sword, lay naked on the grass, etched and notched by recent battle, the blade smothered up to the hilt by blood stains.

The other figure within was laying prone on the table that took up most of the space in the tent. He was a heavy man dressed in ragged and torn furs and with a few days growth of beard on his face. It seemed as though he was smiling thinly but this was just the effect of a hideous bloody slash that travelled across his face from his right eye to his lips. His right leg lay at a strange broken angle on the table and a wide gash could be seen starting in the centre of his chest and disappearing under the fur tunic down to the right hand side. His large hands were lain across his chest clutching along sword with a badly notched blade and a similarly battered battle-axe. Most of the blood that had once adorned his body like a proud badge of courage had been washed away leaving only a reddish tinge on the skin where it had flowed out of the body.

Morgrym Kinslayer Mac Allen could not grasp the reality of the situation.

Ulf Grullson of the Mac Allens was dead!

Morgrym raised his head and looked at the body of his friend – of his brother. He bit hard into his clenched fists and felt the trickle of blood begin to flow down his hands and the bitter taste of iron seep into his mouth. Behind him, the breeze flicked the flap of the tent and he knew without looking what he would see if he could but raise the energy to turn around. The resolute, motionless figure of his bodyguard, Guthrum, would be there, battered and bloody too after the battles of the last two days but still unflinching in his duty to protect his clan leader.

Morgrym’s mind slipped back to a warm spring day of many years ago and saw two youths running quickly through on of the dense forests of Mac Allen. One youth was smaller and older than the other, who had the wild look of a forest animal himself. Both carried spears and whooped and shouted as they chased a wild boar through the thickets. The older youth stopped as their quarry halted in a clearing, and raised his spear to throw. The other youth following fast behind was not prepared for the sudden halt and slammed into his companion spoiling the intended spear throw and bowling them both over. Within seconds the two were involved in a good-natured brawl of laughter and punches until they were interrupted by a black-clad figure with a dark impassive face. The dark-elf, Raven, shook his head and allowed himself one of his rare smiles as he gazed down at the two friends. He sighed. Humans were so strange.

A cheer from the camp outside the tent broke into Morgrym’s reverie. Limbo was secure for a while and the Ice Giants were defeated. But at what cost? Many brave warriors were dead…and Ulf.

Another memory came unbidden and unwanted to his mind, threatening to overwhelm his self-control. It was a smoky tavern on the border of Mac Allen and McRoy. Both he and Ulf were wearing the armour of the Huscarls, the Baron Njal’s elite bodyguard. They had accompanied Morgrym’s uncle to a meeting with the Baron of McRoy and were waiting to return the next day to their own lands.

"A few pints in the local tavern", Ulf had said and winked at Morgrym. "And I hear the McRoy women are built for comfort". A great belly laugh accompanied this statement and a another pint of ale was raised and disappeared down the warrior’s throat.

So there they had been in a McRoy tavern and the inevitable happened, as it normally did when Ulf was around – a fight started. The next day saw he and Ulf behind bars in a McRoy gaol, with the Baron Njal Mac Allen peering through the bars at them with a face like Kir’s Thunder. A few moments of silence hung between the men then Ulf looked at his lord and gave a small, sweet, bruised-face smile at which the Baron’s stern face cracked and he guffawed with laughter and slapped his thighs.

"So many times brother", Morgrym said quietly within the tent. "So many times have you saved me and yet I am still here and you are with Kir. You were the greatest Mac Allen and I was a mere shadow of that greatness. It has been my privilege to know two men who I was proud to call my "brothers" and now neither of them are here to help and guide me – nor get me into trouble. Who will lighten the night around the campfires now Ulf? Who will show the Mac Allens how to fight, laugh and love? Who will be my friend and my brother now? Who does this King trust now you are gone old friend?"

He reached out and clasped Ulf’s cold hand as more cheers and singing started in the camp outside.

Inside the tent, a King wept for his friend.

Ó Slyda 1999