Husums’ armada is scattered while chasing the setting sun, but the captains are experienced and all make their way to the mouth of the Storr river. The coast is dominated by a small Saxon fort on the headland which we land under as the Cynings boat proceeds up the river to parley.

Several days later the Cyning returns and leads Husums’ fleet north half a day. The six survivors of Sleswick are gathered to the Cynings flagship by the small boats that act as messengers. There we are met by Ealdwald, who explains that we will be expanding the Saxon shore by taking a large town called Norwich.

Ealdwald has suggested that we are strong and able and would be keen to prove ourselves in the service of Cwichelm and brings us into his presence. Uxfrea, the berserk, and other advisors are there.

The plan is explained, to capture Norwich, we first must capture Yarmouth, a town at the mouth of the river Yare which is reputedly guarded by a strong Iceni garrison in the fort of Burgh. In order to secure a landing we must ensure that the garrison is otherwise occupied. Our task is to land south of Yarmouth, with a force of Husum warriors, take and destroy a small village (allowing some villagers to escape to raise the alarm) and then to remain as a decoy, ensuring that we lead the garrison away from Yarmouth, while the other warriors leave to take part in the main attack.

The attack goes perfectly, two long ships sail up Lothing Lake and land at dawn, surprising and crushing all resistance. Long before the sun has reached its zenith we are left alone, with a group of injured and infirm prisoners who could not flee the attack, a few horses to aid our escape and, assuredly, Wotan’s favour.

There is some immediate disagreement over the best course of action. Aelfrith forces the infirm into a thatched hut and attempts to make others to make us food and begin building palisades. This fails miserably, possibly as much because of conflicting orders and arguments as the lack of a common language. Eventually, Geat, tiring of the talk, sets the thatch alight, both announcing our continued presence to the Iceni and threatening to burn the prisoners alive. This causes great upset amongst the captives remaining outside, and some altercations ensue, settling down only as Wulfwine pulls Geat’s intended victims from the blaze.

Eventually we manage a dinner of goat and sheep and light a few fires to see us through the night.

The next morning we send scouts north to high ground to watch for any approaches. The terrain is boggy and, while passable, would not be suitable for bringing an army in. Which surely is why the largest path leaving the village lies to the west. All boats other than two are destroyed on the beach, burnt or holed. And further fires are lit and wood gathered. We quickly settle into a routine, a few on watch, a few guarding prisoners and gathering wood and a couple resting.

Late on the third day Aelfrith and Aethelgild, on watch, spy two Iceni cavalry men in the distance who pause, watch and then turn to leave. When a larger body of men is heard approaching they both ride back to raise the alarm. As the sun lowers campfires are lit on the highground to the west, the tension builds as movement and cries are heard in the darkness.

We move the horses and gear down to the beach and maintain constant patrols while shouting phantom orders to maintain our illusion as long as possible. But as the British scouts press ever closer and do not find a strong force, as their insults are met with the barely broken cries of youths, they become bolder, until finally they are flinging stones into our fires and we are releasing or slaughtering our mounts and boarding the last boat to slip silently away into the North Sea as they search the village and cry after us “Cowards, remember Hervis of the Iceni! I’ll hunt you down! I’ll kill you all!”

An easy sail to the north brings us to the Angle force, beached at Yarmouth, with the weakened garrison at Burgh watching impotently from the south bank. Hearing that the main force has already left to march on Norwich we hurriedly down a quick celebratory drink and follow them.

On arrival at the Cynings camp, our report of success is accepted curtly and we are sent back to the host of Sleswick, to stand with our own people, away from the centre of battle and glory. The Iceni army appears large and, drawn up into squares, well organised, especially in comparison to the Angle horde, a mish mash of men and followers camping where they stopped. But we find the camp of Sleswick and there hear confirmation that we are now all orphans. On the eve of battle this news is met bravely, even equanimously.

A night of drinking and invoking Wotan for many and praying for the more devout Christians among us leads quickly to the morning of battle. On rising Geat, overcome with excitement, kicks the nearest slumbering pile of clothes awake but rapidly loses his composure when he realises that this is the daughter of Cynwine, a massive, ugly woman, strong and blooded as any man, who has long lived in Husum. His taunts quickly falter and he is happy to get away with acting as her servant, cleaning and polishing, when a beating could have come so easily. Clearly she is in a good mood. Geat decides that combat isn’t really for him, and remains with the women waiting to tend the injured.

The Iceni army is considerably smaller than ours now, but their cavalry initiate combat with great cries as they crash into the shield wall. By the time they smash deep into our host and reach us, their momentum has faltered, but they are still huge, on horseback and armoured.

Oslaf aims a blow, but misses as he avoids being struck himself, Aelfrith, Aethelgild and Arnwig are all struck mighty blows – Arnwig crawling from danger towards the safety of the rear – and Wulfwine is also struck by a rider.

And then the horsemen are gone, before we can recover and bind our wounds spearmen are on us. Oslaf is hurt, Aelfrith, already suffering from a severed tendon, cannot dodge and is run through, but Aethelgild and Wulfwine take vengeance and two of our attackers will not rise again. Aelfrith is dragged away, along with a couple of captives, by theows.

Our band has taken grievous losses and near breaks, but our leader takes it in hand, and manages to lead us from danger. Aethelgild, still bleeding heavily from the combat with horseman, chooses to remain at the rear and see another morn.

On re-entering combat an arrow transfixes Wulfwine but the archer is not wary enough and Oslaf cuts him down. And suddenly the battle turns, they both cut down spearmen who attempted to save the Iceni archers and, as the men of Sleswick surge, Wulfwine’s axe cuts a swordsman from the shoulder to hip, though Oslaf is blinded by the gore and is hit from the flank. And then the Iceni are gone as their army breaks and flees.

In the next days our forces harry the remnants of the Iceni wherever we find them, laying siege to Buckingham and defeating them there. And chasing the last few to Thetford before surrounding and destroying them there. However we, with our wounds, remain in Norwich and only hear of these stories on the fifth day, when Cwichelm returns to claim a site for his meadhall.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles