HAGAN LOOKED AROUND and saw Childeric had pulled three others around him into a square formation. Gunderic, the king’s son, faced one way, shield and spear pointing outwards. At his back was one of the other older warriors, facing in the opposite direction. Childeric was between them, protecting their flanks, and now Hagan stepped back to join them he closed the square on its fourth side.
It was a formation Hagan and the others had practised many times. He and Childeric now protected each other’s back while Gunderic and the other warrior protected each other in the same way. No matter which direction an enemy came from, one of the Burgundars would be facing them.
Glancing around, Hagan saw some others had also formed these smaller defensive formations. Those few who were still standing, fighting off the horsemen who swirled around them. The others were not so lucky. The Huns cut them down one by one. As each man tried to fight off a horseman another would cut him down from the back or the side.
Hagan saw horsemen were pouring into the half-closed gate of the city too, chasing the women and children who had gone that way. Smoke was already beginning to rise from behind the city walls.
From the edge of the forest, the gold- and silver-clad Hun leaders rode forward onto the meadow, coming closer to the maelstrom of fighting. Now and again Huns would ride at Hagan’s group but between them they always managed to fend the enemy off, and protect each other from arrows shot at their backs. Several times the Huns riding forward swerved away, unable to get close enough to cause harm and unable to attack from behind.
The horsemen began galloping around them, leaving them alone. Why would they attack men who could defend themselves when there were so many other easier victims all around?
‘What are the Romans doing?’ Gunderic shouted. He was glaring across the battlefield where the Roman shield wall still remained, unmoved. ‘Why don’t they attack?’
‘Why should they, lad?’ Childeric said. ‘Their new allies are doing all the work for them. Why should they put themselves in harm’s way?’
Hagan felt he was in some sort of daze. The turf of the meadow had been churned to mud by the thrashing hooves of the Huns’ mounts. The air was filled with a deafening cacophony of men and horses screaming, steel clashing on steel and the thudding of hooves. Arrow-riddled corpses and severed body parts lay all around. His people were being slaughtered around him. His entire world was being put to the sword.
Suddenly a new line of horsemen entered the battlefield. There were ten of them, rising in a line. Their mail coats still shimmered but were splattered with blood. They rode into the Huns, striking down several with heavy sword blows.
‘It’s the king!’ Childeric shouted.
Hagan felt his heart leap at the sight of Gundahar, astride his white horse, wielding the great sword of the Burgundars. Perhaps he could rally the horde! Perhaps victory could still be snatched from this awful carnage.
Gundahar and his remaining oathsworn champions cut a bloody swathe through the Hun cavalry. Mounted themselves, they stood a better chance than the Burgundar foot warriors. Before long they were near to where Hagan and the others stood.
‘Father!’ Gunderic screamed at the top of his lungs. ‘It’s me, Gunderic. Let me fight with you!’
Gundahar heard him and turned his head. Hagan felt a lurch of panic. If Gunderic left their formation it would leave one of their flanks exposed to attack. With some relief he saw the king shake his head.
‘We must surrender, son,’ he shouted back. ‘We cannot win this battle. Remember what I taught you. Where is that Roman, Aetius?’
‘There, lord,’ Childeric said, pointing with his spear to where the Roman general still sat on his horse, just in front of his own line of shields.
Gundahar spurred his own horse towards Aetius. Seeing him, the general turned his mount to face him.
Hagan saw that the Hun leaders were now pointing at the king. Their signal horns sounded. Many riders broke away from the main mass of battle and began pounding towards Gundahar. At another blast of the horns they unleashed a volley of arrows. The storm of shafts streaked across the battlefield and into Gundahar and his horse. Struck countless times, both man and steed stumbled and fell headlong into the mud. The horse rolled over and Hagan thought he could hear the crunching of the king’s bones as the great beast’s body passed over him.
For a few moments the watching Burgundars stared in disbelief. Then Gunderic let out a groan. Hagan thought briefly that this was another experience they had shared to go with all the others from growing up: they had both watched the deaths of the men they called father that day.
Aetius, meanwhile, kicked his heels, sending his horse rushing towards the leaders of the Huns. Hagan could not understand why but Aetius looked apoplectic with rage. When he reached the Hun leaders he screamed something at them while waving his arms. His protestations were met with impassive looks from the Huns, however. Aetius then wheeled his horse and began to ride back to his own line.
‘What do we do now?’ Hagan said over his shoulder to the others.
‘You heard my father,’ Gunderic said. ‘We must surrender.’
‘You saw what happened when he tried,’ Childeric said. ‘The Huns will cut us down. Stand firm, lads, or they’ll cut us down like the rest.’
Most of the isolated Burgundar warriors had now either been killed or fled to the trees. The Huns then began to concentrate on the small formations like the one Hagan stood in. Three Huns would charge at a formation, shooting arrows, then while the Burgundars ducked for cover a fourth Hun would ride in and cast his noose. It might fall over one of the Burgundar’s shoulders, head, snag a hand or even his shield. The Hun then whirled his horse and galloped away, trailing the unfortunate Burgundar out of position, or ripping his shield away. Once the formation was broken more Huns rode in to finish off the rest.
Hagan watched as another Burgundar, a noose caught around his left foot, was dragged out of a nearby formation and trailed off behind a Hun rider, yelling and trying to cut the noose as he went, to no avail.
‘Why can’t they cut those nooses?’ he said, aware that rising panic was making his voice rise in pitch also. ‘My father couldn’t cut the one that held him either.’
‘They’re made of animal hide,’ Childeric said. ‘It’s too tough for a single blade to slice easily.’
One by one, with relentless, methodical ruthlessness, the little defensive formations were assaulted in this manner and destroyed. It was only a matter of time before the Huns got round to Hagan and the others.
‘We should move towards the trees,’ Childeric said. ‘If we stick together and guard each other’s backs we should make it.’
‘No! We must surrender to the Romans,’ Gunderic said. ‘That was what my father was trying to do.’
Then he was running, breaking away from their little formation and towards the Roman shields.
‘No, you fool!’ Childeric yelled. ‘You’ll leave us open to attack.’
It was pointless. Gunderic ran on. Now he was waving his hands above his head.
‘Pax! Pax!’ he shouted. ‘I am Gunderic, son of King Gundahar.’
Aetius spotted him and began to ride across the meadow towards him.
‘All is lost, lads,’ Childeric said. ‘We can’t hold position with just three of us. The army is destroyed. Run for it. It’s every man for himself now. Try to get to safety if you can.’
‘But—’ Hagan began to protest but as he glanced over his shoulder he saw that the other two men in his formation had already broken away and were running as hard as they could for the trees beside the river.
When he looked forward again he saw a Hun already galloping towards him. He had his bow drawn and was lining up Hagan for a shot.
Hagan planted his spear butt in the earth then drew his throwing axe, just as he had seen his father do. He hurled it at the oncoming horseman. The rider ducked and the axe missed, but it was enough to put the Hun off releasing his arrow. As he straightened up again Hagan grabbed his spear and launched it at him. Intent on raising his bow to shoot, the Hun moved into the path of the oncoming spear. The blade struck him in the chest. With a yelp of both surprise and pain, the Hun toppled backwards out of his saddle.
Hagan felt a thrill rush through his heart. He had brought down his first warrior in battle. Momentarily forgetting the dire situation he was in, he glanced around to see if anyone else had witnessed it. All he saw however were countless swirling riders and the carnage that had once been the Burgundar army. He also now had only a knife to defend himself and that would not be much good against horsemen.
Nearby was a fallen warrior of his tribe, his chest transfixed by four arrows. His francisca still in his belt. He had never had a chance to even draw it. Hagan grabbed it then loped off for the trees as Childeric and the other man had done.
Glancing over his shoulder he saw two horsemen pull off from their formation and begin to pound after him. One was trying to aim his bow while the other was swinging a noose. Hagan tried to run faster but his shield was heavy and an encumbrance. The thought of being without the protection it gave was frightening but he realised if he continued to carry it he would never make the trees.
Hagan dropped his shield and sprinted as hard as he could for the forest. In a few moments he made it to the relative cover of the forest edge. As he entered the dense undergrowth he looked around and saw the Huns following him turn their horses around, reluctant to follow him into the dangerous tangle of trunks, branches and brambles where their horses would cease to be an advantage and an ambush could lurk behind every bush.
Hagan kept going. The trees around him were full of other men fleeing for their lives like he was. Soon he was on the narrow path he had taken earlier to try to find the king. He charged along it, batting away branches that got in his way or thorns that tugged at his jerkin.
Now the immediate threat to his life was lifted, Hagan’s thoughts turned to the rest of his family. They had been among the other women and children watching the battle. Were they too now dead like his father? Was he now alone in the world?
He thought of his mother’s kind face and the urgent, glowing almost worship his little brother had looked at him with that morning when he had stood in his war gear before them. Tears filled his eyes and he could not stop them streaming down his face. He had to find them. His father was gone now so it was up to him to protect them.
He knew there was a way back to the town walls through the forest. A little further along there was a fork and the right-hand path would take him to outside the city walls.
Hagan stopped. Looking around he realised he had made the same mistake as before. Instead of fleeing along the riverbank he had ended up in the same clearing around the small bay again. If the Huns were chasing him into the forest he was now cut off from the city but such concerns were no longer a problem for him.
For a moment his heart leapt at the thought that Gunhild – a friendly face – was perhaps still there. Perhaps at least they two might be able to get away.
Then he looked around and his blood turned to ice. The Swan Maidens’ boat was still grounded in the reeds, but the little clearing was now a scene of horror.