The Saga of Einar Jonatansson - Chapter I

With the coming of the thaw my warriors grew restless for the vik.

I led them across the whale road to Ireland, the land of bog dwellers and little kings.

We landed in the north where the Norse Gael dwells. The race is a sorry dilution of noble Nordic blood with bastardised bog trotter.

In the early dawn we moved inland and found an abandoned longhouse with heart embers still glowing red. I sent my archers into the building and had them cut arrow loops in the walls while my hearthguards and warriors formed a shield wall outside.  To our left front loomed the only high ground in the area and opposite the longhouse on the other side of the clearing was a small wood, wreathed in an early morning mist that hung heavy across the land.

It wasn’t long before shadowy figures could be glimpsed in the misty half -light of dawn moving in the wood and to our front. Our visitors seemed nervous and over cautious.

I sent the warriors forward to tempt them in and ordered the archers out in support. Two groups of Norse Gael hearthguard appeared from the mist brandishing their dane axes and cursing us to the gods.

The archers shot two of the enemy down, forcing them to retire like whipped dogs.

My warriors moved bravely toward the wood and revealed enemy warriors also wielding dane axes. Our archers quickly send one of them to hell.

Finally the enemy found his courage and their warriors launched themselves at my warriors. Two of my brave lads met the axes of the enemy in personal challenge and went straight to Valhalla. 
Overwhelmed by the fierceness of the attack another five of my men fell to the deadly axes but took four of the enemy with them in red death.

My surviving warrior fell back as the archers shot down the last three enemy warriors and my shield wall advanced on the enemy.

The bloodletting seemed to have cowed the enemy who hung back from the fight again. The archers went forward and killed three more of their hearthguard with well-aimed shafts.

This proved too much for the Gaels who ran off into the mist.

A search of the longhouse rewarded us with hidden silver and an arm ring.

Hear my song of red war and tremble.