Arne mentally cuffed himself in the head. Valka was still stinging from the Frankish heir's escape, and it hadn't been his intent to make his plight seem less than that of his wife's.
He snorted and shook his head with a grin. "Hah! I think Loki decided to toy with the both of us today." He set his mug down, and leaned forward. "So . . . I, Sir Cedwyn and the militia and rode up to the manor, and we got no further than about a hundred paces away when this woman's voice bellows out in Frankish, 'Begone, you fatherless bandits! Or you will find out how well we can fire our crossbows!' What a voice! Like she was born to a battlefield!"
Sir Cedwyn sits back on his horse and says, 'Hello, the manor. I am Sir Cedwyn of Logres. King Utger Pendragon is here in support of the Praetor Syagrius and restoring him to his lawful place on the throne. We seek supplies to support this. We ask, my Lady, for supplies sufficient for the army.'" Arne shrugged. "I translate for him, and the woman yells back, 'Get you gone! I will not warn you again!'"
Arne was grinning broadly; he was warming up to the tale. Taking a healthy swig from his mug, he wiped the froth away with the back of his hand and continued. "Sir Cedwyn tells me that it's time to break down the gates and storm the manor . . . he had the idea that it was naught but old men and noble women inside." He shook his head and chuckled. "Those old men and noblewomen showed us. We got no more than ten paces forward before they shot at us. They missed me, but Sir Cedwyn was fleshed in the leg. Two of the militia fell."
"We raced forward, and they fired another hail of bolts at us." He patted at the puncture wound near his shoulder. "I ate one of the bolts, but Sir Cedwyn's armor turned another. Another of the militia went down. By this time, Sir Cedwyn and I were closer to the manor wall, so the accursed crossbowmen had a hard time of shooting at us."
"It was then that I thought to myself, 'Why is the woman speaking to us, and not the lord of the manor? Any why were none of the people fleeing from us of fighting age?' Aha! The lord and his soldiers must be away somewhere! So! Hoping for an easy victory, I took a piece of my saddle-blanket, stuck it to my sword-point, waved it aloft and bellowed, 'Lady of the manor, hear me! Tell your crossbowmen to stop shooting at us and surrender the manor, and all will be spared if they offer no further resistance! None of us will harm you, or violate you! Before Freya I, Arne Torvaldson swear this!'".
He broke out into a laugh, and took another drink from his mug. "The Frankish noblewoman is our enemy, but by Freya and Odin, I think you would have howled with laughter at her defiance! Here I sat on my horse, thinking they would throw down their arms and surrender, when she gave me my answer." He shook his head sorrowfully. "I think I shall have to ask her to repeat what she said to me, for I cannot remember it all. Let me just say that it . . . well, she was very creative in what she said about the animals and tree knotholes involved in the romantic pursuits of both mine and Sir Cedwyn's ancestors going back several generations."
Arne was lost to laughter for several moments, then sighed. "I, ahh, translated to Sir Cedwyn. I'll give the man his due . . . he did not blush or rage; he just sighed and said, 'We need suppies and hostages. Take them alive, We can take them fairly easy.'" Arne snorted. "I was thinking the same thing, and maybe Loki decided to have sport with me for my cockiness. Easy, my arse."
"The militia brought the door down despite the crossbow bolts flying about like angry wasps, and by this time I was madder than a goaded bull. Earlier I had swom to the woman's safety upon my word of honor, and and she had shat on my word. I yelled at her, 'I will say this AGAIN to all those who skulk inside this household! Surrender NOW, and upon Sir Cedwyn's orders, all within WILL be spared! The lady of the manor's virtue will NOT be sullied! Do not be foolish - look around you! You are outnumbered, and you are AGAIN being given a generous offer! Do NOT cast it back in our teeth a second time, for you will not be given a third chance!'".
Arne raised his arms in the air with a look of exasperation. "Loki take the damn woman, but in between curses that I've never heard of before, she tells me to ram my offer - generously wrapped with shit-coated thorns - up my back passage at the same time that Sir Cedwyn's fed me his manhood, and that if I dared to enter her manor she would be wearing my guts for . . . whatever in Hel 'garters' are!".
Arne growled, although it was somewhat spoiled by the grin still plastered on his face. "Oh, Valka, how I ached to drag that Frankish bitch out of the manor by her hair, coated in the blood of those damned crossbowmen!" He shook his head. "But Sir Cedwyn was in command, and he bade me follow him into the manor to take her alive."
Arne drained his mug and thunked it down on the table. "That is where the fun really started."
He stood up, and clapped a hand to his sword hilt, a look of fierce Nordic battle-lust on his face. "We draw our swords, and rush in! Sir Cedwyn enters the manor first, and I close on his heels, begging in my head for any of the defenders to try and fight me!" He charges forward a few steps, and looks down at his sword belt. "The damn broken door was my first foe, and grabbed at my belt while I charged forward." Arne let himself topple over to land sprawling on the ground.
He lay on the ground in silence for a few moments, holding his sword aloft and idly examining it as he sighed. "So, as the door knocked me flat on my backside, a a woman clad in leather armor and wielding a spear charges Sir Cedwyn with wild eyes and the heart of a warrior! Behind her, two other warriors - a man and another woman also armored and armed the same charge forward to try and slay us!"
Arne scrabbled to his feet and readied his sword, while making a great show of hastily dusting himself off. "I rise to my feet quickly and one of the noblewoman's guards - a bloody she-wolf - rushes eagerly forward to run me through. Ha, haa! Battle is joined! I raided my sword and shield, and yelled a mighty war-cry and I slashed at her spear-arm!" Arne brought his sowrd whistling down with murderous force, and let his look of triumph evaporate. "Only the damned slipper eel wasn't there. She writhed out of my way, and gave me a poke with her spear for all of my troubles." He pointed to a bright scar on his mail, just under his ribcage.
Arne shot a look of surprise at where the woman has struck him, and let his eyes widen as he raised his sword and snarled. "A lucky strike! I batted her spear-point away with my shield, and lunge, wanting to spit her like a trout on a stick!" Arne matched words to action, and lunged forward with his blade. His snarl turned to a look of alarm, as he pantomimed trying to bring his sword back from the lunge. "My foe caught my damned sword in the spear's back-tines, twists the whole damn thing up and over, and again over I go to fall flat on my arse. And . . . and! . . . beside all of that, the damned spawn of Loki still is able to poke with her spear!"
Arne sprang to his feet, wild-eyed and teeth bared. "Rrrragh! Now I was frothing at the mouth, craving nothing more than hacking this she-wolf to bloody strips and feasting on her heart! Tunk, another spear-jab hits me, but does not pierce my armor. I swing mightily at her, wanting nothing more than to shear her head from her shoulders!" He swung a wicked cross-cut at where his foe's head should have been, but then he let his sword-arm fall to his side and raised his head upward, staring at the ten'ts roof, and snorted. "I think I would have had better luck fighting one of the manor's accursed walls. My enemy pushed my sword out the way with her spear - tink! - draws her arm back, and gives me another poke." Arne wearily tapped at a spot on his mail near his left pectoral muscle.
He chuckled and sheathed his sword. "Swing, miss, poke! Swing, miss, poke! Valka, it was as if I had never picked up a sword before today! So intent was I with my for that I did not see Sir Cedwyn knock his two foes out. The woman I was facing saw this, and called out, 'Swear no harm will come to the lady, and I will yield!'"
Arne grinned. "Ahh, my love, I was still spitting mad then, but held my sword and growled back to her, 'Thank your gods that Sir Cedwyn is the commander here, woman! Twice we gave our word that your lady would be treated fairly, and twice you spat on our oaths! Insult my word of honor again by asking me a third time, and we will finish this fight, you and I!'
He shrugged. "I told Sir Cedwyn what she said, and he in turn gave his word that the lady of the manor would be treated well. The warrior-woman I was facing laid down her arms, and I persuaded the crossbowmen still lurking within the manor to surrender as well." He dwelled upon the battle for a few moments, then slapped his sword's pommel. "Yes, the noblewoman and her guards are our enemies, buy Freya take me, I liked their skill in battle and their fighting spirit! I said as much to the woman that I was fighting . . . Anstruda, her name is. I think she was surprised that I praised her."
