Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [229]
The rape at the sheep farm had been avenged.
Meanwhile, none had fought more bravely than Port. He had prepared himself for battle by strapping a small round shield of the Viking type to his right arm while in his good left hand he wielded a short, light sword with which he showed a surprising dexterity.
“You fight better with your left hand than you did with your right,” the thane called to him. Certainly he was glad of Port’s presence. Each time Aelfwald turned in the thick of the fray, the solemn sheep farmer was always there, either just behind him, guarding his back, or on his left side, acting like a second shield.
But it was at the turning point of the battle, when the Vikings after seeming the first time to waver, were launching a furious counter attack, that Port performed his most noble service.
Aelfwald and the sheep farmer had found themselves unguarded for a moment, just as two huge Vikings had borne down upon them, one from each side. As ill luck would have it, the ground on which they were standing was muddy and slippery, so that when the thane despatched one with a magnificent thrust from his sword, he slipped and fell, while at his side, Port was knocked to the ground by the other with a mighty blow that completely shattered his shield. As he struggled to get up, he saw the Viking’s axe raised above Aelfwald.
He knew what he must do. With a calm gesture, he raised his good arm to take the blow that was meant for his lord. While the heavy blade, deflected, bit past the bone, Aelfwald had just time to recover, raise himself on one knee and plunge his sword into the surprised Viking’s heart. Then he seized his loyal retainer and dragged him from the fight.
Port lived; but his remaining hand, and most of the forearm, was gone.
Soon afterwards, the Viking retreat began; within the hour, Alfred was master of the field, and as night fell, Guthrum and the tattered remains of his horde limped into Chippenham. The Saxons camped outside.
Aelfwald himself dressed Port’s terrible wound and his sons made a rough stretcher with their spears, on which they carried him. It was not long before the report of his gesture was common knowledge throughout the fyrd.
“Port swore to fight for me in my hall,” the thane announced. “Never was any Saxon’s vow better kept.”
And the other thanes agreed:
“The sheep farmer fought like a noble today.”
Port, weak though he was, felt a glow of pride. But at the back of his mind he could not help wondering: “With both my hands gone, what shall I do?”
As the Saxon force hurried after the retreating Vikings, one figure remained behind. The thane’s youngest son did not leave the field of battle.
For Aelfstan still had one more duty to perform.
Alone, as the sun sank, he searched among the fallen bodies for the pock-marked Viking. It did not take him long and when he found him, he knelt on the ground. Silently and skilfully he worked with his knife for half an hour, cutting and peeling, until he had carefully separated the man’s skin from his body. Then, rolling the dripping skin up, he slung it over his back and mounted his horse to ride after the others.
At dawn the next morning he found a small wooden chapel just under the walls of Chippenham, and there he nailed the flayed skin on to the door.
It was a pagan custom, but one of which, in the circumstances, none of the Saxons could disapprove.
Guthrum held out at the small settlement of Chippenham for two weeks. Alfred and the fyrd awaited him. Finally, the Viking offered his surrender, together with a promise to leave Wessex for ever. Three weeks later, Guthrum and thirty of his nobles submitted to baptism at the Saxon camp of Athelney, in the presence of Alfred and his thanes.
Among them was a new thane who had no hands.
For a few days after the surrender at Chippenham, there was an open air ceremony at which the king gave his loyal followers their rewards.
When he came to the men from Sarum,