The Danes marched slowly into position. They knew the Northmen would not vacate the high ground, so they were in no hurry. Part of Hakon believed it was deliberate, meant to drive his warriors insane with impatience or else lull them into indifference. It did not work — his men watched keenly, taut as bowstrings, waiting for the imminent clash of muscle and wood and blade.
“Asmund,” Hakon said when he found his hirdman. “Come. I have a task for you.” The spearman jogged over to his lord. “I need you to gather the spearmen in our armies.” Hakon pointed to a few of them. “Have them form a solid second line in our troops. Do not cast your spears when the enemy comes. Keep them with you. Even when they cast their own, keep them with you. As we hold the higher ground, I want our spears to poke
