The Ouse River steamed in the morning chill, its surface a mirror until shattered by the wake of long, narrow knarrs sweeping south with the tide.
Oars rose and fell in perfect rhythm, steel caps and roundshields gleaming between the high gunwales.
Ahead of the lead ship, Vetrulfr's banner snapped in the wind, a white shape on a field of blood-red.
Along the eastern bank, hooves thundered. His cavalry, mail-clad from helm to heel lie beneath iron lamellar. Rode in a column beside the river, their destriers snorting plumes of frost.
Heavy lances rested in stirruped hands, round shields slung over shoulders. The sigil of the ochre vegisvir displayed proudly across their leather decoration.
The twin advance... one by water, one by land, gave the illusion of an army everywhere at once.
By the time the first hamlet sighted them, it was already too late.
The cavalry struck like a spearhead, smashing into the village green where a dozen levy spearmen scrambled to form a shieldwall.
