Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(7)

The Apocalypse, for the Anglo-Saxons, had arrived.

It was a cloudy day towards the end of the month of September when the transports of the Duke of Normandy’s fleet moored off the coast of Pevensey, England in shallow water with hardly a ripple from the waves that came in from the south. The sea spray was minimal, as was the swell, allowing both men and materials to be offloaded without trouble. Horses, who had suffered the uncertainty of a trip across the channel, were led off the ships by their masters, kicking up the water and jumping about, smelling the salt and the sea grass, eager to be on land where they belonged.

As the army came upon the shore in waves of flesh and bone and armor, setting foot in this land for the taking, a beachhead was set up so men could recover from the journey and prepare for what was to come. But they made no secret about their arrival; they had no intention of being covert about their presence. Thousands of men raided the countryside for food and anything else they could carry while their commanders, including the Duke of Normandy, huddled in tents and planned the coming incursion.

A military action unlike anything the world had ever seen before.

With their tactics, manpower, and superior weapons, the Normans had the advantage. Harold Godwinson, the King of the Anglo-Saxons, had been far to the north dealing with another attempted invasion by the Norwegians when the Normans appeared on his southern shore. The Normans knew this, of course, through their network of spies and mercenaries, so their appearance on the shores of Southern England had been no accident. This is what they’d planned for, making sure they were able to make it ashore without any resistance from Harold and his army. Now, they were here – and it was essential that they defeat the Anglo-Saxon army in a mighty display of their power.

A battle to end all battles.

Harold had an excellent army, however, which concerned the Normans, but they were also betting on the fact that many of Harold’s ranks were full of farmers and farm workers who needed to tend to their fall crops at this time of year. At least, that’s what William’s advance scouts were telling him and that was what the duke was counting on. While Harold would lose men to the harvest, William was bringing a massive contingent that was fresh and ready to fight.

And that would be Harold’s downfall.

After the first night on the rocky shores of Pevensey, William and his men moved on to Hastings and captured the town, where William began to build the first of many castles he would build in England. From that castle, the Normans continued to raid the surrounding area heavily, gathering supplies for their foray north into England. But that particular move came sooner than expected near the middle of October, only three weeks after the landing at Pevensey.

Word had reached the duke that Harold had marched his army at a crushing pace south and were nearing Hastings, prompting William to move his army out of the safety of Hastings Castle and head north to intercept the Anglo-Saxon army. About six miles northeast of Hastings, they came within striking range and on the night of October 13, William and his army formed lines because Harold’s army had been sighted by the duke’s scouts about ten miles to the north. It was time to take a stand and the Normans did, doing what they did best as they dug in and awaited Harold.

And that’s when Warwolfe was called forth.

Gaetan de Wolfe was the tactical mastermind that the Duke of Normandy relied on. An enormous man with black hair and eyes the color of polished bronze, de Wolfe set up the lines of men and weapons that would face Harold’s army in the morning. With his generals, men who had each earned great and crushing reputations on the field of battle, the front lines of the Norman army were positioned so as not to allow any room for mistakes or problems.

The lines were to hold, regardless of the situation, because de Wolfe had given that command and all further battle commands would come down through him and his generals, trickling down to men known as the Companions of the Conqueror. These companions were unimpeachable nobles from the finest families supporting the duke’s conquest. Although they were men of battle, they weren’t necessarily on the lines like Warwolfe and his men were. Even as there were two factions advising and fighting for the Duke of Normandy – the Companions of the duke versus his Angels of War – even the Companions, these great and noble men of battle, knew well enough to defer to the Anges de Guerre, led by Warwolfe himself.

Where Warwolfe went, destruction followed.

The morning of the 14th day of October dawned cold with a hint of rain blowing in from the south. Before sunrise and amidst the snicker of horses and the heavy smell of cooking fires, the cavalry mounted, including Warwolfe and his generals, and these ten great men were separated with the three distinct lines that de Wolfe had formed. Each man had specific orders to ensure the success of the day.

Men that would lead the charge against the Anglo-Saxons.

First into battle was Kristoph de Lohr, a Breton from Lohréac, who was the great motivator of men. He was joined by Aramis de Russe, of Flemish blood, who killed with his fearsome double-blades. Lancelot “Lance” de Reyne, a Breton from Morlaix, was a man that all men would follow, and Marc de Moray, former Sheriff from Rouen, was the master of the spear. Fearsome men who struck terror into the hearts of the enemy.

But there were more – Denis de Winter, whose bloodlines descended from the Visigoths, wielded the sword of his forefathers, l’Espada, with the power of the archangels. His friend and comrade, Luc de Lara, who, with his noble Spanish blood, was a titled lord among them as the Count of Boucau. He was an impenetrable wall of destruction. Kye St. Hèver came next. He was a nephew to the Count of Anjou and man they called “The Hammer”.