Olaf arraigned his men in three battle formations, strung out across the hillside to make as good a use of the high ground as possible. He harboured fears the superior forces drawn up before him might attempt an outflanking manoeuvre. For vast our enemies were, assembled below us, spears bristling, banners held aloft. They filled the valley like a vast, grey lake, perhaps ten thousand or more, and my stomach lurched at the sight of them.
“Fear not,” said Olaf, sensing my alarm. He peered at me from behind the ringed eye-guards of his burnished bronze helm and grinned. “My plan is simple. We shall strike hard and sure into their centre, forcing them back upon their second line. As the wings of their force close in, Dag shall come out of the north and deliver the killing blow.”
I looked ar
