Viking

The lone horse appeared as a silhouette on the horizon and at first Nixon thought to capture it as it appeared riderless. But as the horse stumbled down towards the woods where he hunted, Nixon could make out a crumpled dark mass clinging to the back of the horses neck in a failing attempt to remain in the saddle. Nixon made to move towards the lone horse, when he was blocked by the arm of Elsbard, the leader of his personal bodyguard. "Wait sire, a wounded man in need of assistance would make perfect bait for bandits in these parts". But as he spoke the approaching rider slipped from the saddle and fell heavily to the ground. Nixon, the younger son of King Richard could make out the blood mixed with the lathered sweat on the horse's flanks and knew the man we no threat. He told Elsbard as much and pushed past his outstretched arm. The riderless horse snuffled at the cloaked and bloodied figure for a moment, then began to graze contentedly. As Nixon approached with Elsbard shuffling hurriedly after him he could see that this was no man, but a mere boy who could not have been more than twelve years old. Although only fifteen years of age himself, Nixon was tall for his age and longed to leave behind his awkward gangly youth and fill out into manhood. Nixon shook the boys shoulder to see if he was conscious and his hand came away sticky with congealed blood. He undid the boys cloak to get a look at the injuries and perhaps it was the pain as the cloak became unstuck from the wound because the youth suddenly cried out. With a tortured yelp the boy tried to scramble away from prince Nixon, his face was contorted with fear as if he were still facing whatever had caused his injuries. This sudden movement prompted the reaction from the ever protective Elsbard. "Hold still or ill cut you another mouth right here at your throat" he threatened with a sword tip resting on the youth's undeveloped adam's apple. As a drop of blood welled out and darkened the razor sharp sword point Nixon ordered his bodyguard to stop terrorising the boy. It was clear that the boy did not have long to live by the size of the red patch on the horse's hide. "Relax boy" said Nixon, "and tell me what happened". With a trembling voice the boy described the death and horror he had fled from. "It came as a cloud of dust, and they emerged from it at the last second". Nixon leant close to catch the boys words. "Too late we realised it was not the wind, but a great host of horsemen. The descended on our village before our men could arm themselves. The dark men with their heads and faces wrapped in cloth, you could just make out their fierce dark eyes and hooked noses as they leant down from their red eyed horses to hack and slice with their wicked curved swords. The horses were huge, all black with great long legs so that the riders seemed to reach down from high up in the clouds to sow death amongst our people. I felt like an ant scurrying about in the dirt trying to avoid the curved steel and flying hooves, trying to stay away from these giants in flowing cloth".

Clearly the boy was exaggerating, indeed the horses must have seemed huge when the boy was scuttling around between thundering hooves, trying to stay alive. However the image of riders swathed in cloth on thundering black horses with monstrous long legs stayed with Nixon that night. Nixon and Elsbard returned to King Richard with news of the invading force from the East, but Nixon's sense of purpose evaporated as he entered his father's hall. King Richard had never mistreated Nixon but secretly he thought Nixon couldn't be his son. To look at the two was to compare polar opposites. King Richard, like his eldest son Steven was thickly built, hirsute and had that commanding presence. Their thick black hair and booming voices contrasted starkly with Nixon's coltish good looks and slim figure. King Richard suspected his late queen Elsbeth had bedded another man, and although she had been a saint of a woman, once the seed of doubt had been sewn, it grew and grew and with it grew the distance between him and his son.


Although Nixon tried to prove himself he was always overshadowed by his elder brother Steven. And Steven must have heard the rumours for he was always want to point out the family traits Nixon lacked. Despite this, Nixon worshipped his father and tried desperately to impress him. As he entered his father's hall bearing momentous news Nixon tried to still his fluttering heart and grunted softly to clear his throat so that his first words would not crack and bring shame to his father. "Word has come Father, of a vast army advancing from the East consuming and demolishing everything in its path, It has come as far as "x" and shows no signs of stopping, we must assume it will threaten our shores imminently". King Richards face had turned cruel upon hearing the word father and his words equalled his expression. "Young Nixon" he began "only a fool assume, I make a habit of knowing the truth of a matter, especially when it comes to war". Still in awe of his father and reeling from the public scolding, Nixon had not noticed his older brother Steven enter the hall. "Wise sentiments father" Steven interjected, "we must gather more information and meanwhile we can raise our armies to face these heathens." Hearing these words Nixon could see his role in the matter slipping away inexorably. He tried to recover some semblance of control but in times of fear Nixon had always suffered from a stammer. "I...I...I..." he uttered, but as the youngest son he held no sway and Richard batted his objection aside like a fly. "It will take time to gather our armies and prepare for war" said Richard, "Steven you shall assist me in this task and head my household troops". Steven swelled with pride until it seemed he must burst, but Richard was not finished. "Young Nixon, I know you are disappointed but Steven's place shall be at my right hand side. However you shall still play a role." And with this Richard showed his hand. His network of spies was common knowledge, so it should have been no surprise that he already knew of the invasion and had planned accordingly before Nixon came bumbling into his hall. "I have too many hostages kept within these walls, and they are too valuable to kill but at the same time they cost me a small fortune to keep. It is about time they did something to earn my hospitality". This last statement encouraged a dutiful laugh from most of the courtiers as King Richard was famous for ill treating his hostages to encourage a quicker ransom payment. "Many of the hostages were captured on the battlefield and know one end of a sword from the other. You shall have your pick of the hostages and your task is to use them against this Eastern enemy. Slow their advance in any way you can until I am able to arrive with English troops". Although Nixon longed for his first taste of battle, he could recognise this task for the suicide mission it was. Richard may as well have said "take my flea-ridden hostages and throw yourselves on some enemy spears". It seemed like a perfect way for his father to rid himself of an illegitimate son and cut down on some burdensome hostages. Still, there was no way for Nixon to back down from the challenge without losing face. So he forced a thanks upon his father and made an exit from the hall to assemble his suicide crew of rejects.
Nixon could have forced any of the hostages to accompany him, but his reward would be a knife in his back or a slit throat while sleeping. The truth was Richard's hostages all had one thing in common, they despised the English and would love nothing more than to murder a young English prince. So in the interests of survival Nixon met with the hostages with an aim to recruit only willing partners. But finding willing participants for a suicide mission was no easy task, and after careful deliberation there seemed only two possibilities.

Knud the Dane was chopping firewood when Nixon made his approach. This household chore was the only pretence under which the once great war-Dane was permitted to wield an axe. A fact he resented that was obvious by the way he not only chopped the wood, but smashed it to pieces, shearing through the wood like a hot knife through butter. Although he had lost his freedom for the time being, it was clear he had not lost the skills that made the man famous. Knud the dane was once a great Jarl, in command of a whole fleet of dragon boats that had pillaged the English coast. He had wreaked havoc upon the coastal towns and villages until he had been set up by one of his own oar-mates. His second in command had gotten ideas above his station , but lacked the guts to fight openly for the Jarl torc. He had betrayed Knud to King Richard for a boat load of silver along with the promise to leave England for good. Knowing all this, Nixon tried to appear confident as he approached the huge bear-like Dane whose wild tangle of a red beard framed a fearsome slab of face, but his guts felt like they had hot acid burning inside him. When the enormous Dane spun round it took all of Nixon's willpower to resist taking a step backwards. "What do you want Englishman?" growled Knud as he hefted the heavy axe as though it were a child's toy. "I..I...have come " explained Nixon, desperately trying to overcome his stammer. "I...I...have come" he painstakingly repeated "to exchange that servants wood axe for a real bearded battle axe". The pensive Dane was obviously interested as he longed for the feel of a proper weapon in his fists again, but he remained silent and waited for the young prince to continue. "I am riding to battle. I am to choose from my father's hostages and we are to confront an enemy of dark skinned warriors from the East." Nixon knew he had Knud's full attention now and he tried to sell it him by embellishing the proposal with hints of war glory. "If I fight, will I earn my freedom?" questioned Knud in an uncharacteristic show of intuitiveness. "My father has not specified this" Nixon responded, trying to avoid the question. "I'll take that as a no" responded the Dane "but if it gets me out of this rat infested castle, and I get to wield an axe and an ash spear again then ya I shall come with you. Odin one-eye would be pleased to see me chop off limbs rather than waste away chopping wood".

Approaching the Scot would be much more difficult than convincing Knud. Where he had been happy to fight simply for the joy of it, Wallace would not stomach fighting for the English, not unless there was something to be gained for himself. Nixon had thought about the best way to go about it and eventually thought he had found wallace's weak spot, his chink in the armour. Wallace the Scotsman was a horse man, he knew horses better than a farmer knows his cows and in the past he had always ridden the most impeccable war-horses on his raids into northern England. To pick apart the hierarchy of the Scottish nobles was no easy task, but Wallace was a Lord, and as such should have commanded a decent ransom. But Wallace's conniving nephew had assumed his role and showed no signs of relinquishing his new status. Wallace had long ago realised his ransom would never be paid and it would seem that he had nothing to lose by joining Nixon and Knud. But the wily scot was no fool and appreciated the suicide mission for what it was. " If you expect me to traipse all over the place killing in the name of Richard of England then you've had a few too many hits to your noggin lad". Nixon had prepared for this argument and tried to reassure Wallace. "Other than myself there are no Englishmen, its to be just me and those hostages that volunteer. So it wont be in the name of England, or Richard, this is a secret task in which we are to kill these foreign bastards for no other reason than they shouldn't be here". "You mean" started the scot "that your father the king is sending you off with a bunch of his enemies unprotected and whats more its to face untold numbers of foreign invaders?" "Yes" said Nixon rather downheartedly, "thats about the right of it". Suddenly Wallace stopped his ranting as he realised the truth of it and he went on more gently "He wants you dead doesn't he?" "Yes" answered Nixon after some pause "but if you come I promise you the pick of my horses, my finest black destrier or...." "I'll come" interrupted the scotsman, "but not because of the horse, although that is a good start lad" and you could see the twinkle in Wallace's eye and see his back straighten, chin lift and eyes narrow at the thought of riding in full war-gear astride a battle hardened fighting stallion of the finest breeding. "I'll come lad" he repeated but his mind was already far off.