HAGAN FOUND HIMSELF riding amid a great mass of charging warriors. Like him, they should have been on the edge of exhaustion but somehow were not. The Visigoths had been fighting all day through the heat and the dust. They had been on the brink of collapse, beset on all sides. They had lost many of their number including their own king.
Now, with the immediate threat lifted and seeing the men who had been oppressing them suddenly break and run, they surged forward, baying for blood, thirsty to pay back their enemies for everything they had put them through. The Ostrogoths had broken and run. Some had headed for the Hun camp, some had headed for the Roman lines where the rest of their army was attacking and some, confused by the smoke, just ran off across the battlefield. The Visigoths now charged after them but seemed equally divided as to which way to go. The cavalry wedge formation Hagan had been part of when they attacked the Ostrogoths had disintegrated in the chaos.
Hagan was unsure if he was charging amid the throng or if they were pushing his horse along with them. The smoke stung his eyes. He could hear horns blowing but for all the heed the warriors around him paid to them, the signallers may as well have saved their breath.
Hagan used the power of the horse to shove his way clear of the throng. When he got to a reasonably clear area he looked around. There were some other horsemen not far away and he saw they had white eagles on their shields so he made his way to join them. There was no sign of Brynhild however, nor any of her Valkyrjur.
‘Lord Thorismund orders us to attack the rear of the Huns attacking the Romans,’ one of the horsemen said.
‘You’ve seen him?’ Hagan said.
‘Yes, he was here a moment ago,’ the other man said, shouting to be heard over the racket around them. He coughed as he sucked in a mouthful of smoke. ‘He’s ridden off to try to rally as many of the men as he can.’
Hagan nodded. The young prince was certainly a leader. He would be a capable replacement for his father, the Visigoths had no need to worry about that. Perhaps it was just the effect of his presence on the battlefield before his men, but whatever Thorismund did it appeared to work. Before long the bulk of the Visigoths’ horde was charging in the direction of the Roman lines, or at least the direction he assumed they were in, as at that moment they were hidden by drifting smoke.
As they moved forwards, Hagan and the other horse warriors continued to regroup with others from the scattered Visigoth cavalry until there was once more a formidable contingent of them. Charging was still impossible without mowing down some of the warriors on foot who surrounded them, but by the time the smoke cleared and the Roman lines became visible ahead, the whole mass of men had managed to coalesce into ordered ranks of marching men with two wings of cavalry on either side of them. Thorismund was in one of these and Hagan in the other. While he saw a few of the Burgundar Bear Warriors, there was still no sign of the women of the Valkyrjur.
The Huns and their allies, intent on attacking the lines of the Roman Alliance, were oblivious to the danger approaching from their rear.
When they were about forty paces behind the enemy, signal horns began blasting above the noise. Hagan did not know the Visigoth signals but their meaning became clear as the horsemen around him surged forwards. He kicked his heels and sped after them, joining the charge.
As they closed the gap the Huns finally noticed them. Their own horns began to sound, this time in warning. Horsemen and foot warriors at the rear of their ranks turned and saw the threat coming.
Hagan saw their panic as warriors on foot tried to realign and form a shield wall to their rear. The horsemen wheeled their mounts, several knocking their own foot soldiers over as they did so, and began to target their bows.
It was all too late however as Hagan and the others were already charging into them in two wedge formations that split the enemy ranks asunder. Hagan heard men screaming as they were trampled beneath the hooves of his mount and pounded into a bloody mess. He slashed down at a man on his right, his sword gouging deep into the flesh where his shoulder met his neck, almost decapitating him.
The world around him seemed to slow down and it felt as though he was aware of everything going on around him all at once. He kicked down at another warrior on his left while at the same time he saw a Hun on horseback not far away loose his bow. Hagan could not see the arrow but still he managed to duck sideways in his saddle. He felt the wind and heard the angry buzz it made as it shot by, a finger’s breadth from his left eye.
Then with a great roar of anger the Visigoth foot warriors arrived, throwing themselves into the attack. The whole Hun line appeared to shudder at their impact. Almost at the same time the sound of more signal horns blaring rose above the shouting of men, the screaming of frightened or injured horses and the clash of weapons. This time Hagan recognised the distinct sounds of the Roman bucinae. It seemed impossible but the din of screamed war cries got even louder.
From the vantage point of his horseback Hagan was able to look beyond the men around him towards the Roman lines and saw their cavalry was now attacking. The legionaries too were surging forwards all along the line. So too were their allies from the Burgundars, Franks, Saxons and Armoricans as they took advantage of the reduction in pressure on their shield wall caused by the warriors at the rear of the Hun companies turning to face the Visigoth attack.
One of the Visigoth horse warriors who had waded deep into the Hun ranks was struck by an arrow. His horse was struck at the same time and reared up on its hind legs, then toppled over sideways, crushing several warriors on foot beneath it. Several of the warriors retreating backwards tripped on the bodies and fell over. Each man pulled another with him. With the Romans surging forwards at the same time, it caused a great swathe of men to lose their footing. A loud wail of dismay rose as men went sprawling to the ground.
Complete chaos ensued.
All forms of organisation dissolved. The battle lines fell apart, reforming into smaller groups fighting hand to hand. What had been formal shield walls, units and armies now resembled a massive brawl and it was impossible to tell which side held which area. Horsemen rode this way and that, striking whoever was within reach then riding on. The feet of thousands of men and horses kicked up clouds of dust that merged with the smoke from the grass fires to obscure the view and choke the throat.
Hagan did his best to stay with as many of the other mounted warriors as possible but in the swirling mass of fighting men, with all the smoke and dust it was nearly impossible. Once Hagan raised his sword to strike a warrior on foot. Just in time he saw the white sea eagle painted on the man’s shield, realised he was a Visigoth and stayed his hand.
The chaotic, desperate fighting continued for some time as the dust and smoke got thicker. To Hagan’s astonishment he realised the sun was sinking, bringing the gloom of evening with it to add to the confusion.
A large contingent of Hun horsemen came galloping forward. Unlike everyone else they seemed to have managed to have stuck together. They were some way away and riding hard in the direction of the lowering sun that glowed blood red through the smoke and dust. The Huns cut down anyone who was in their way, friend or foe alike. When Hagan thought about it he reasoned that they were riding west, and therefore these Huns were heading for their camp.
Hagan wondered why his attention had been drawn to this group amid all the others around him when he saw the white banner flying from a pole carried by one of the riders. On it was emblazoned the same stylised bird – the Turul – that was engraved on his mother’s amulet. It was the personal war flag of Attila. As they rode by Hagan just caught a glimpse of the man riding at the very heart of the band of Huns, protected on all sides by his warriors. It was the man himself: King Attila.
‘Attila is fleeing,’ Hagan screamed at the top of his lungs.
At that moment Attila glanced around. It was impossible that he had heard Hagan’s words but nevertheless Hagan felt that for a moment they locked eyes. Then his view of the king was blocked as the riders continued on their way.
Hagan looked around, desperate. He could not pursue them on his own – one man against perhaps fifty – but if he could round up enough other riders they could catch him. They could end this whole bloody nightmare right now.