They came at dusk out of the long summer evening shadows cast by the trees on the hill above Ercongotastead. There stood forth Raedmund chanting some fell galdor as three bound captives – his own followers it seems – were hoist from a sturdy ash-tree, sacrifices no doubt to Freo, queen of the Wen and mistress of the wild. As the victims twitched their last upon the ropes, the host lurched forward, men and pukelfolk together. There amongst them the hulking menace of a Thurse, giant mell in his hands, flanked by two large Pukelmen urging it onwards towards the gates.
In Ercongotastead men stood behind the palisade – in truth little more than a boundary fence – and readied their slings and throw-spears. The archers, Aculf, Herewulf and Godgifu, tensioned their bows and looked for a shot at the fearsome Thurse. However, before they let fly a single arrow they felt an eldritch chill at their backs and the entire steading was suddenly enveloped in a thick mist boiling up from the river behind them. Disappointed of their opportunity to strike an early blow, the three made their way to the platform that formed a porch to the great hall, there to support the shieldwall that would be Ercongota’s last defence against their foe.
Amongst those manning the palisade was Eawulf, fighting bravely, for all that his strength had been much depleted by his efforts to bestow the healing touch of Frige upon the rescued folk of Frithistead. Yet, though he strove manfully, it was clear to him that the tide of Pukelfolk breaking into the compound could not be stemmed. The horns were sounding on the wings for a retreat into the shieldburg in front of the hall. As he made his way through the fog he stumbled by chance upon young Eaha sore beset by a Pukelman. He ran the wight through, earning Eaha’s thanks. However, realising that his last reserves of strength were used up, and that he would be of little use in a shieldwall, he elected to stay and rest for a small while with Eaha.
Lytelman was standing by the gate when he heard the first crack of the Thurse’s mell upon it. Distaining to join those preparing to launch a volley of throw-spears upon the beast once it had broken through the gate, Lytelman chose to take the fight to the enemy and leap over the palisade, axe in hand. No doubt those around him thought that the Battle-Wod had taken him, but it was not Woden but Tiw, the Battle-Cunning Lord of War that plucked the threads of his wyrd that night.
Landing amidst a small knot of Raedmund’s outlaws, he felled the first with a blow to the head before they knew he was among them. He then laid such a welter of blows about him that in a no more than a few heartbeats another lay dead and a third was knocked to the ground.
Just then the gate gave way and with a roar the enemy surged into Ercongotastead. In the lead were the Thurse and the Pukel champions. Just behind came Raedmund’s core band – men in armour with warshields and spears in swine-array with Raedmund in their midst, at the back of the formation. Behind them were a handful of geoguth – light-armed men. In their midst was Lytelman, unmarked in the mist and the din of battle. Just one of the foemen turned to challenge him and soon lay bleeding out his life on the trampled ground.
The Thurse crashed into the shieldwall that had been hastily formed up before the doors of the great hall. Every rise and fall of its huge hammer reaped a life. There fell Bregowine and Cadwal, veteran retainers of Ercongota. Slain too were Teothic and Cenwalh his friend, the lead warriors from Frithistead. Yet before they join the gods they land their blows. As the mist dispersed the archers rained down their shafts and three of Aculf’s arrows lodged deep in its shoulders. With a mighty bellow the Thurse fell to ground, stone dead.
Yet there was little cause for joy amongst the hard-pressed defenders as the swine-array with Raedmund at its heart surged forward into Ercongota’s tattered shieldburg. Matters would have gone poorly but for intervention of the Tiw-touched Lytelman. As the geoguth fanned out towards the wings of the swine-array, he saw his chance. Darting into the rear of the array, he struck Raedmund such a blow that he fell dead on the spot, Lytelman’s axe buried in his back.
With Raedmund’s death his Pukel allies were filled with dismay and turned to flee along with a fair number of his followers. Others sought to avenge their leader upon the body of Lytelman who found himself surrounded by men intent on his harm. He was swiftly laid low and things would have gone ill with him but for the forward surge of the Ercongotastead shieldburg, led by Ercongota herself and the stout Osric. The outlaws were forced back from Lytelman’s prone body and soon broke and fled, pursued by arrows and slingshots. Lytelman was found to be grievously wounded but alive.