Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

place," Harald commanded. With a brief look at Alex he added. "I would not ask you to fight against your own people, go now if you wish."
    "No. These aren't my people. I will fight with you." The two men locked gazes for a few seconds before Harald tore his eyes away.
    "Form up!" he shouted, turning to face the expected direction of the attack. His men fell into place beside him their shields locking together to form a defensive wall.
    The atmosphere was tense. Standing with the others behind the small shield wall, Alex watched as a line of men approached, taking up their positions no more than twenty metres in front of them. Nearly all had long dark hair, in some cases tied back, but in most it hung messily around their shoulders. They wore no chain mail, no shirts, just knee length blue kilts and heavy leather boots. All were heavily decorated up their arms and across their chests with detailed patterns tattooed in blue. In their hands they carried an assortment of weapons. Alex could identify spears and swords as well as a couple of axes; some were swinging chains on which hung heavy spiked balls.
    The men around Alex were silent, watching, waiting for the other side to make the first move. Alex wiped away the thick layer of sweat that formed on his forehead, yet at the same time noticed he was shivering. He felt sick and if he was honest at least part of him wanted to run.
    The sudden shouts from the men opposite drew Alex's attention. The shield wall didn't move as, brandishing their weapons, they began to approach. Slowly at first, but gathering speed, the blue painted men crossed the grass towards them. In practiced formation the shield wall slowly started to advance. Behind them the men bunched together, waiting.
    Then it came, the crash of steel on wood. The shield wall steadied, holding up to the first wave of the attack. From under the bottom of the shields the long swords slashed at the legs of the attackers. At the ends the untrained farmers pushed back with pitchforks and hoes. The Picts fell back slightly, reforming their line and striking again. In the centre the tallest of the attackers swung the spiked metal ball around his head, then let it fly directly at the wall. Alex watched as it caught one of the shields at the top edge, splitting the wood and carrying through into the face of the man holding it. He fell back, his features crushed beyond recognition. With a cry the attackers fell upon the gap in the shield wall, forcing their way forward into the defending line.
    Alex tensed, swinging the axe in front of him as the wall fractured apart. He saw three of Harald's men fall under that first assault, some of the men around him dropping their weapons at the sight of the approaching enemy and fleeing the battle. It was every man for himself now.
    Sweat poured into Alex's eyes as he dodged and wove amongst the attackers, swinging the axe wildly trying to defend himself. It was chaos. All around him he could hear the crash of metal against metal, the cursing and shouting of the men on both sides. Just ahead of him Harald swung the long sword with practiced efficiency; so far no one was able to match him.
    Alex nearly didn't see the tip of the spear until it was too late. Jumping out the way of the weapon which was levelled at his chest he swung the axe at shoulder height, it bit into the chest of his attacker, blood pouring from the wound as he pulled the weapon back. The man stumbled forward into him, blindly grabbing at Alex who pushed him away. As the man fell to the ground in front of him Alex felt bile rise in his throat as the realisation that he'd just killed someone hit him.
    He wanted to run, to escape. All around him men fought for their lives, the broken bodies from both sides littered the grass. In front of him Harald still fought on. As Alex watched he realised with horror that it wasn't a Pict that Harald was fighting now, it was his own brother. Gunnar hadn't done what they had thought, he hadn't fled to Skara, instead, he'd betrayed them, had sold out his own family to the enemy.
    This was the whole point of the battle, the fight for the Jarldom between the two brothers. Alex watched the two men circle each other, their sword blades clashing together in what seemed to be an intricate dance. They were evenly matched, at first neither giving ground, but Gunnar was the fresher of the pair. Alex watched in horror as Harald began to give way, his sword strokes slower, somehow heavier than