Anglo-Saxon England

"It was true, you can't go home again, but sometimes you don't need to"

Not only do I like the TL so far, but I really like your way of writing.
 
Meanwhile in England...

The rebellions of 1199 had been successfully put down- High Queen Hylda's borders were secure but the Witan urged her to take a consort from among their number. Unsurprisingly, the Queens choice was Earl Helm the Hammerhand, the hero of the hour. Though Helm was twenty years her senior, he was a well respected warrior and an experienced ruler having been the chief noble in the Midlands. Helm was not anointed sovereign but was merely consort to the High Queen. This choice however boded ill for the unity of the North. Dark worries crept into the minds of the other Godwinsons- might Helm be seeking to found a dynasty, inching his way towards power as Earl Godwin had centuries before?

In January 1204 a son, Wulfhelm Helming Godwinson was born to Helm and Hylda. The child was anointed Crown Prince of the North. Few at the time could conceive of the shadows that would cloud his footsteps, of the violent life of the prince whom the bards would name Wulfhelm Gore-Crow...

Misfortune seemed to dog his very footsteps- nurses fled from him claiming the child to be posessed and indeed, strange were the tales of his servants as he grew. The Prince possessed a certain cold blooded charisma. He once tortured a kitten to death but when beaten for it simply stated that he wanted to find out how it worked. When he reached the age of eighteen, his mother died in childbirth. The Hammerhand, through sheer force of personality, quelled the discontent in the Witan and oversaw the coronation of his son as Wulfhelm Godwinson, High King of the North. This did much to allay the fears of the Godwinsons- at least Helm had let his son claim the throne as a Godwinson and not as a Helming.

King Wulfhelm showed little aptitude for government, letting his father and the Witan handle such mundane matters. His interest lay in matters of war and religion. Wulfhelm trained for hours with his military advisors, exercising his huscarls in mock fights and battles studying the field for hours at a time. Often after these sessions he would retire to his rooms with a blinding headache. At other times, he would spend entire days in prayer and fasting. Helm discreetly began training his second son Helmgar in the arts of rulership, sensing that his eldest son's life was like a candle burning at both ends.

Wulfhelm's main innovation was in the outfitting of his huscarls. he expended much of his personal income in outfitting and training them as a medium cavalry force, flying in the face of traditional Anglo-Saxon methods of war. To Wulfhelm, cavalry would be used in conjunction with the infantry- his swift, lightly armoured cavalry would be the hammer smashing the enemy against the inexorable anvil of the shield-wall. This innovation would be tested many times in the violent years that would lie ahead of the young warlord.

In the year 1230 at the age of twenty six, Wulfhelm abdicated the throne in favour of his brother Helmgar. In his abdication speech, he gave a call to arms that would set hearts and minds ablaze across all the North and launch thousands into one of the mightiest campaigns that the world has ever seen.
 
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Although I agree with you that the a calvary force would be raised after the norman invasion I would disagree that it would be the Huscarls. The Huscarls are VERY traditional based force that often used weapons that were considered out of style, such as large two handed axes. Also i doubt that Huscarls would be very good at fighting from a horse as they have already spent a life time training as some of the best infantry in the western Europe and would resent a young prince, who hasn't been proven in battle, trying to change the way they have succesfully fought for hundreds of years. Also you have to wonder were these war horses will come from as I belive (but could be mistaken) that english horses are not fit to fight from as they arn't sturdy or big enough. Also the old Infantry tactics have recently defeated the cavalry based army of the Normans and wont exactly make people call up some calvary.
 
At a monastary in Eire 1203

Brother Njal prayed nightly, caught in a strange fever he had contracted on his journey. For weeks the monks of New Stamford had nursed him through strange fevers, visions and strange rantings in the midde of the night. Then, unable to provide the spiritual comfort he needed, they determined to send him back to the Chapter houss near Dubhlyn.

There, in the magic of the cool spring of his homeland, Brother Njal at last began to return to the world of man., and his story told in the nearby taverns by the laybrothers of the Monastery.

Brotehr Njal, had made careful notes on his trip to the Southern Lands several years before, and now he began to speak of what he had learned, and what he told the abbot and his confessor, would somehow wend itself to the ears in the nearby villages.

As they sat by the fire in the Alehus, they were told of how across the sea, in a warm land, rich in Gold (this they all knew, for stories of Gareth the Lucky and his medusaal full of gold and jewels were being told thoughout the northlands.), men wore features, drank strange drinks, and engaged in strange rituals worshipping a snake who granted wisdom.

It was here that the listeners, (good Christians all, didn't they tithe to the North Church on York?) would cross themselves, their fingers and sit closer to the fire, even on the warm nights of summer.

For not only did these small men worship a snake god, but they would drag young men, boys really, according to the tales, and sometimes (here the women shuttered), daughters of kings and princes to the altar atop a pyramid, just like those of Egypt, and there they would cut out the hearts of these innocents and give them to the serpent, who (as any good Christian knew) must be Satan.

Then these tales, carried on the tongues of peddlers, travelers and pilgrims, were told and retold. The wealth was greater, the boys and maids sacrificed, made more beautiful and hopeless, and the certainty of Satan's kingdom on earth that much greater.

To the sea, to the ship, to the shore, and on to the ears of one whose life was waiting like an empty cup to be filled with the purpose of God.
 
LDoc: I agree that OTL huscarls would be hard traditionalists but in TTL, they've had two hundred years to develop since the Norman Invasion. Helm Hammerhand utilised medium cavalry successfully in his campaign against the Welsh. Basically, to the Anglo-Saxons at this point, medium cavalry is the way to scatter longbowmen when you're fighting the Welsh. Wulfhelm Gore-Crow is simply taking things one step further. Also I'm assuming that in the two hundred years, English stock has been interbred with Continental (or maybe if there is more trade with Spain, Arab) horses. by this point they don't have anything on the line of the French destriers but they do have horses strong enough to carry a relatively lightly armoured man into battle.

Back to the tale of Wulfgar once I get back from classes...
 
England 1229: Njal and Wulfhelm

Wulfhelm had heard the tales of the mad monk who had raved of gold and evil and glory for the past twenty years or more- he now decided to see if this man was truly inspired. Swiftly riding for the West coast, he took ship for Dublin...

"The King comes...it is the dark one, Wulf..." the whispers ran through the corridors of the zbbey like wildfire.
Wulfhelm strode through the abbey like the great dark wolf he was named for. He was a man physically in the mould of his father, a giant, full seven feet in height. Unlike his father though, his long, dark Godwinson hair gave a sinister cast to his bearing.
"Where is the Holy Man?" he asked the Mother Abbess
"Th...through this garden my Lord" the good lady stammered.
An atavistic shriek rose from beyond the hedge
"He has come! The sword of Our Lady! The wrath of God in the world of men! He will smite the dragon, that old serpent Satan and his time is upon us! Follow him, O children of men lest the world go swiftly to the fire! Burn with him lest ye burn without him!"
The speaker was an old man, blind, yet wiry, foaming at the mouth. He leaped forward, to stand before the young King.
Wulfhelm looked shaken. For the first time since they had known him his retainers saw raw emotion on his face. The young High King slid to his knees before the wild, old monk.
"Teach me brother," he said and the old man dragged him off.
For two days they stayed in the old man's cell and at the end, Wulfhelm emerged a changed man. Before, his cold charisma had been directionless, now the cold fire of a Cause burned within him.
Theodric, Wulfhelm's closest retainer, shivered as his lord approached him. Beside Wulfhelm was a younger monk, also with that same cold fire in his eyes.
"Theodric, gather the men, we set sail for England with the tide. Make arrangements for Brother Sean to accompany us."
As the group of warriors and nobles thundered down the road to Dublin port the abbess breathed a sigh of relief. It had not been to her liking to provide quarters and provisions for these unruly men. A monk ran up to her side.
"Mother Abbess! Brother Njal has passed on!!!"
"What is this? How did it happen?"
"We went into his chamber and he turned to us with a look of aweful glory on his face...he said, "He is truly the one, my work is ended. Consumnatum est!" and fell dead!"
"He may be the one, Brother, but if he is, then Our Lord has things most terrible and wondrous planned in our time. The Wrath of God in the world of men...I fear for our world."
 
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A King abdicates, the wrath of God arises

"We Wulfhelm Helming Godwinson, in the sight of the High Witan and our father Helm Hammerhand and our brother King, Jan of Sweden do hereby abdicate the High Throne of the North in favour of our brother Helmgar Helming Godwinson. I hereby reject any claim to the High Throne by myself and by any of the descendants of my body for now and hereafter while the line of Kings stands."
A ripple of murmurs swept through the High Witan. A king abdicating in the bloom of his youth? This was unheard of. Although Wulfhelm certainly was an odd fish and many of them would feel better with Helmgar on the throne...but wait- the King, no the Prince now, was saying more.
"I have seen a great darkness! It waits beyond the setting sun. Already our brothers in the West know of it, already many of our churls have gone West to face it. They need leadership! I implore you all, send what assistance you can with me. Some of you are Southmen (Continental Europeans)- we have fought against you before, now fight with me! Our churches may differ but our purpose is one: to defy the Enemy and all his works! You, you Moorish lords (addressed to some Andalusian envoys), your Book is like unto ours! Fight with us! The dragon, that old serpent Satan awaits us and we must fight, lest the world be dragged into his firey maw. Tales you have heard, rumours of sacrifice most foul, sacrifice as the pagans did in the days of Molech and Dagon in Israel long ago! I am the Sword of Our Lady, the Wrath of God in the world of men! this I take upon myself, this most holy duty! Follow me! Lend me your arms!"
Wulfhelm stopped, slumping against the podium in a fit of tiredness . One of his blinding headaches was upon him. Theodric and Sean supported him and led him from the chamber. The High witan was in an uproar. Helm Hammerhand, Chairman of the witan thundered for order and was ignored. the foreign delegates conferred among themselves.
And now the word slipped out. Peasants had been hearkening to it for twenty years or more but now nobles would too. One of their own had proclaimed it. The word swept from York across the seas. Prince Boris of Kiev considered it in his gloomy halls. The Scandinavians stirred as they felt the Viking blood swell afresh in them. On the Continent from France to Germany to Rome the news swept. The Pope and Antipope met with their councils, the Holy Roman Emperor spoke with his Princes. In Andalusia, the Caliph contemplated this news from the North. The Wrath of God had arisen and was ready for war and soon one word would shake the world of men, from Old World to New:
Crusade.
 
Spring 1218, Docks of small Channel Port

** Note of explanation **

Neither the kingdom of New Stamford or that of New Wales (Gareth the Lucky's) can provide the logistial base for a sustained struggle with the Meso American empires, (particularly since there would be a significant amount of metalurgical technological transfer). It therefore seems reasonable to have various calls over the years for a "peoples' crusade" that would be answered by the young and ambitious. As in OTL, many, if not most, of these innocents would be victimized and end up elsewhere.

With all of the gold from the raids heading first to New Wales and then to New Stamford, there would be gold enough for local farmers and merchants to purchase many of these crusaders, and use them on their farms. In TTL this builds both the population of Vinland and helps to build a logistical system sufficient to support a crusade.

*** end of note****

Ludolf Hanmanson, called the small by his friends, stood nervously fingering the sharp edge of his long knife. Others in this small port looked at him nervously as they walked past, but considering he had been here almost two weeks made him a long term resident in this fast growing port.

He had come following the call of Brother Brechtold, a holy hermit from near his small village. Stories about Satan's Kingdoms in the West had been filtering in for several years. [Lurid tales that caused the maids to move closer to the young men, wre a favorite in his village]. So he knew that the stories must be true, otherwise why so many tales?

But Brother Brechtold, [so holy that even the priests didn't care if he was followed the Northern or Roman Church] had begun to preach that it was every godly man's duty to put down this evil, and youths and even maids from all over the parish had begun to answer his call, Ludolf among them, although truth to be told he was more interested in Anna Tyla's Dotter than the godliness of man.

Still, it got him oout of the parish, and when Anna decided to go back, Ludolf kept on, finally arriving at this Northern port.

But Ludolf was canny, and what he saw in the others gave him pause, of course they were dirty (wasn't almost everybody?), of course they poor and hungry, these were just to be expected, but what bothered Ludolf was their foolishness.

Some moorish captains would take them onto their ships, promising them passage west, but, Ludolf suspected, giving them passage south.

Other Northern captains, would take them aboard, promising them passage west, but Ludolf asked questions and found out they would be indentured on arrival as price of their passage. Ludolf didn't leave on farm merely to end up on another.

So he poked around, talking to this one and that one until he found what he was looking for, a small merchant vessel needed a hand, and offered him a place.

Ludolf decided to keep his knife close though, for while he put faith in God, he put little in men.

The passage was speedy, and within several weeks more, Ludolf stood on the piers of New Stamford main port, called Mannaholm by the townsmen. AS he wandered the town he began to see the things he had hoped to see, strange swarthy men, not moors, carried bundles of furs, these were men from the local Skraeling clans. Most were no sworn to King Aelfraed, but some few were vassals and merchants of the Skraeling kings who ruled nearby.

But, Ludolf noted, if not for their darkness, they looked and dressed much the same as the Northerners, one hand on their bundle, the other on a sharp long knife. For all they were heathens, they were not fools.

But there was more, merchants, raiders and pirates rubbed elbows, some swaggering, weopens ready to avenge any insult. Even as he watched, a fight started, a large red headed man and a short, darker man, were disagreeing over a woman (who was quickly and quietly making her way to the edge of the crowd.)

Ludolf was impressed with how quickly the King's Huscarls stopped the argument, and idly wondered how long it would be before then men would be able to chew again.

Sometime went by as Ludolf sought his opportunity. He was wary though of approaching just any one, but he needed work, for even here he could starve. Finally, he learned of a venture that was sailing West, towards some great inland fresh water seas, to trade with the local Skraeling, and offered his services as general laborer and guard.

Ordinarily, the trader merchant, Osfried Pendason, would have used locals, but here, on the edge of the great Satan's kingdom, men had begun to find more profit in raiding to the South, than in trading in the West. But, he went on, there was more wealth in trade, because no matter how much gold you had, you still needed sharp edged swords and food.

What Ludolf didn't know was that he would be gone for two years, but (as he later philosophised leading his own trading missions West) the young have more time to spare, so what's a year or so?

The last thing he saw as the thickbodied trade ship left port, was a boat load of peasants unloading. Local farmers, most of Anglisc or Northern blood, but no few skraelings, buying workers for their farms.

The distant call of gold and battle were heard by many, but Ludolf's glory would be found elsewhere.
 
Summer 1233: The opening moves

The Wrath of God was a happy man. It all seemed so clear, his great vision, his noble call. After abdicating the throne he had gathered those huscarls and warriors loyal to him and had taken ship for Vinland. He had guested for a winter with King Aelfraed of New Stamford and had sailed south to investigate Satan's kingdom. Gareth ap Owyn had been pointedly cold to say the least when Wulfhelm and his men docked for supplies in New Wales but had received him nonetheless.
"The lands of the Ucuatan? Some of their ports are only a few days sailing away. You'd best be warned though, they don't really take kindly to strangers. Every year my captains lose a few men trading with the little devils."
"Better that they should lose men than lose their souls! Each Northman lost is a holy martyr," growled the Prince.
"Yes, well...be that as it may, you'll not trade lightly with them," said Gareth warily, sizing up this slightly insane Englishman.
"I don't wish to trade with them at all. I bring the Serpent the fire and sword which he deserves." And with that, Wulfhelm turned on his heel and strode back to the docks to supervise the resupplying of his small fleet.
Three days later they had sighted a good sized town, one of the ports that ap Owyn had told them about. It was dominated by a large stone building, presumably one of the abominable serpent temples. Wulfhelm had ordered his men to make landfall. A crowd of Ucuatan had gathered. Warriors were among them armed mostly with obsidian-bladed swords and maces, a few with spear throwers and even fewer (seemingly the most important) were armed with metal daggers, obviously of Northern make.
A fat man waddled out from the crowd and gabbled at Wulfhelm in his incomprehensible tongue. Wulfhelm had brought along a few New Welshmen who spoke the language but did not waste time consulting them. With one swift movement he drew his great sword and beheaded the Ucuatan noble with one mightly blow, bellowing the war cry of his father's house.
"For Our Lady and Our Lord! Forth Helmlingas and fear no darkness!"
It had been a massacre. The Ucuatan warriors fought bravely but were helpless against the larger, stronger, better equipped Northerners. As the last few warriors fell to his men, Wulfhelm directed them to storm the town. All Ucuatan who lingered were killed. From the temple, much gold and silver was taken. The idols within were cast down and the Northmen did what they could to destroy the abominations.
Wulfhelm had returned to New Stamford with his loot a happy man. The warriors there, seeing his booty flocked to his banner. The next year, his ranks swelled, he looted eight more Ucuatan ports. At sea, on the way back they had to fight off an attack by a fleet of New welsh ships, eager for booty. King Gareth ap Owyn strenuously denied his involvement. This was immaterial though. The news of Wulfhelm's loot had spread across the sea and week by week more warriors were landing in New Stamford from all the Kingdoms of the North and from far off Kievan Russia. King Alfraed was less than happy about this influx of bored armed men but gold-gifts from Wulfhelm's growing treasury soon alleviated his concerns.
And now, merchants had told Wulfhelm of the great fleets that were about to sail; French, German, Italian even Andalusian. It was all falling into place...
 
I can't think of anything that could make a king more nervous than having a bunch of armed men running around, all claiming to be there at God's will.

King Aelfraed, made king largely by virtue of getting there first, and without the benefit of direct connection with a royal family, must be particularly nervous.

In OTL, when crusaders were denied their due at Constantanople, they sacked the city, could we expect any less from these, particularly since the 'king' isn't really a king at all?

I think it reasonable to assume that the King would recognize his danger, and begin to seek a way to lessen it to himself and his family.

Who would his allies be?

********************

Ludolf Hanmanson scowled at the message his runner had given him, wishing he had never learned to read. The King wanted to see him.

“Bah!” – He scowled again at the note in his hand, “as if I have the time for politics!”

The last fifteen years had been good. He had prospered and grown wealthy. Once a poor arrival on these shores, he was now wealthy, with men that answered to him, knowing him as a generous and pleasant man, albeit canny.

He owned eight traders, three of which could be used to raid. While his principal interests were in the west, he had, on occasion, led small raids in the south, and had accumulated both gold and reputation. More than 300 men had sworn to him directly as traders and arms men, with another 800 or so lived in the town that had grown around the Iron Hills in the west.

In addition, he had strong allies, a skraeling king called him son, and asked him for his wisdom. Together they would listen to the stories and songs of their peoples, each presenting their storytellers, listening to this story and then that, then giving gifts to the best.

He gave to the church, and sponsored priests to talk to the Skraelings in the west. All in all he had a good life.

Now Ludolf sat scowling, “Bah!”

Nothing threatens wealth and happiness quite so fast as politics, and, while he honored and respected King Aelfraed, this message meant just that.

He stared at the wall then came to his decision. The king wanted him involved with politics and the growing threat from the ‘crusaders’ arriving daily was a sure sign of the type of help being asked for. No longer could his wives walk without fear, and the King’s Huscarls no longer controlled the waterfront and docks.

He would see the king, he would help as he could, but he would leave the city with his family and his retainers and make his way west to his trading place on the Iron Hills.

He sighed and gathered himself together, best he see what the king had in mind, but only after he gave the orders to prepare his ships to leave, Mannaholm was no longer his.
 
It was painful to watch him. Wulfhelm had made it seem so easy. Once the Franks arrived they could begin a mighty crusade with Wulfhelm at the head. They would crush the Kingdom of Satan and slay the serpent worshippers.
But the Franks had proved unruly. They had taken to raiding the farms and homesteads around Mannaholm. King Alfraed had demanded that Wulfhelm assist him in disciplining them and bound by the bonds of guest friendship Wulfhelm was forced to do so.
Still he had laboured on confidently claiming that when the Andalusians arrived they, surely would make common cause with the true Crusaders. The Andalusian ships had stopped long enough to resupply and laden with trade goods had set off South.
Wulfhelm had been in his quarters, crippled with the pain in his head in the two days since then. Theodric puffed worriedly on his pipe of Tabaq.
"Get that infernal thing away! He needs air," growled Brother Sean glancing up from where he was mixing herbs.
Theodric glared at the monk. He had picked up the habit from the Stamfordmen recently and was loath to discard his pipe.
"You had better do something to help him, monk."
"I will have to increase the dosage of his herbs. More willow bark to ease the pain and more coca leaf too. You will have to watch out for him- the mixture will make him disoriented."
"I will do what I have to do, monk, just as you must." Theodric strode from the room. The patrol rosters against the Franks needed seeing to.
 
Moving Story to Writers Guild

This POD has (unexpectedly) become a story. Flocculencio and I agreed that maybe we should move our story over there.
 

monkey

Banned
The Anglo-Saxon 'line' was the primary defensive formation as it allowed for the numbers of of the AngSax to come to effect while limiting the effecitiveness of a cavalry charge, or more likely, a\ infantry charge such as the Vikings were so famouse for. For the attacker i would think that a infantry charge would be a favored tactic or possible just moving the 'line' forward until it hits the other line. The AngSax military formations and tactics are not well known but it was probably heavily influnced from their experince fighting the vikings and most likely was largely defensive. Another important factor to remember is that archers were rare in a AngloSax and Viking army so they had little relevence to how military leaders decided tactics and strategies, which is another reason why the 'line' was probably a favored method. The problem with a AngloSax formation is that should range weapons be used behind a 'line' it would mean a almost garaunted victory as the archers would be properly defended while the opposing line would be near defenseless as the 'line' was so compact that a arrow had to hit somthing. That is why i would guess that the welsh bow would appear on the english scene much earlier. Mayber Harold enters wales but is but is ambushed by welsh bowmen and after his conquest of wales demands that every fyrd member in wales be trained in the welsh bow instead of other weapons?

The arrows will hit something but it will just be a shield. A shield at arms length provides good protection from arrows. The shields overlap aswell providing double protection. Even in all demontrations or Roman Scorpios I have seen the bolt always gets stuck in the shield. Sources often describe shieldwalls as resembling the back of a serpent which surgests a formation as impenetrable to misiles as the Roman Testudo. Which would also explain why Vikings and Saxons did not bother with bows much.

After all if the shieldwall was as vunerable to arrows as you imply, then as William brang many bowmen the battle should of been over quickly rather than lasting all day. And if historians were willing to agknowledge that the Bayaex tapestry was made by a bunch of housewives rather than Jane's Medieval Weapons they could of even been longbows. As all archeological finds of bows in europe since the Mesolithic tend to be of full length longbows rather than these shortbows historians keep on sugesting they used.
 
The arrows will hit something but it will just be a shield. A shield at arms length provides good protection from arrows. The shields overlap aswell providing double protection. Even in all demontrations or Roman Scorpios I have seen the bolt always gets stuck in the shield. Sources often describe shieldwalls as resembling the back of a serpent which surgests a formation as impenetrable to misiles as the Roman Testudo. Which would also explain why Vikings and Saxons did not bother with bows much.

After all if the shieldwall was as vunerable to arrows as you imply, then as William brang many bowmen the battle should of been over quickly rather than lasting all day. And if historians were willing to agknowledge that the Bayaex tapestry was made by a bunch of housewives rather than Jane's Medieval Weapons they could of even been longbows. As all archeological finds of bows in europe since the Mesolithic tend to be of full length longbows rather than these shortbows historians keep on sugesting they used.

It is unlikely that they were longbows, at least in the sense of the type of longbow later used with such effect by the Welsh and English in the later Middle Ages. Some of the descriptions of the effect of the Welsh/English longbow which have come down to us clearly indicate that a Saxon or Viking shield would not have been a defense against it. There are accounts of Welsh attacks on English castles, for example, where Welsh arrows penetrated straight through castle doors made of 6-8 inches of solid oak. Clearly a Saxon or Viking shield is not going to pose an obstacle to such a projectile.

We also have evidence of another nature...Welsh and English longbows required such strength to use that the skeletons of archers actually became deformed, with enlarged left arms and other deformities. We don't find Norman, Saxon, or Viking burials with those features, indicating that the bows they used weren't in the same class as the Welsh/English longbow.

The idea that Saxon or Viking shields could have formed any formation as formidable as the Roman Testudo is ludicrous on it's face. Unlike the Roman Scutum, which was a large rectagular shield which covered most of the body, the Saxon/Viking shield was a much smaller round shield which covered the torso and possibly the upper thighs at most. A man could be incapacitated just about as much by a arrow in the leg as by one in the torso. And if you lift the shield to catch arrows falling from above, you make yourself vulnerable to arrows coming in on a flatter trajectory. The Romans, because of the shape and size of their shields, were able to form a roof over themselves using the shields of the rear ranks while still maintaining a solid defense to the front. The Saxons/Vikings would not have been able to achieve this with their much smaller round shields.

And even the Roman Testudo never had to face Welsh longbows. If they had, they probably would have found it not a very good defense.
 

monkey

Banned
The idea that Saxon or Viking shields could have formed any formation as formidable as the Roman Testudo is ludicrous on it's face. Unlike the Roman Scutum, which was a large rectagular shield which covered most of the body, the Saxon/Viking shield was a much smaller round shield which covered the torso and possibly the upper thighs at most. A man could be incapacitated just about as much by a arrow in the leg as by one in the torso. And if you lift the shield to catch arrows falling from above, you make yourself vulnerable to arrows coming in on a flatter trajectory. The Romans, because of the shape and size of their shields, were able to form a roof over themselves using the shields of the rear ranks while still maintaining a solid defense to the front. The Saxons/Vikings would not have been able to achieve this with their much smaller round shields.

I saw some reinactors make a gapless shieldwall simply by having the first rank crouch down a bit the shields then touched the ground and the second rank coverd there head etc. It forms a curving wall of overlaping shields that really does look like the scales on the back of a surpent. An efect which is hightened when teardrop shaped shield are used.

There are accounts of Welsh attacks on English castles, for example, where Welsh arrows penetrated straight through castle doors made of 6-8 inches of solid oak. Clearly a Saxon or Viking shield is not going to pose an obstacle to such a projectile.

But should we view these acounts as exagerated exceptions or the rule. perhaps it hit a rotten betlely knot or somthing. Perhaps we should find the source also It was my understanding that the account you are refering to, was a single arrow through the door of a manor house. Experiments with even the strongest of bows and crossbows tends to show that thow they are quite good at piercing things, but they then only travel a short distance as the shaft is griped by the surounding material. The wood chosen for shields was not the hardest but springy softer woods which are good for griping arowshafts.
 
The idea that Saxon or Viking shields could have formed any formation as formidable as the Roman Testudo is ludicrous on it's face. Unlike the Roman Scutum, which was a large rectagular shield which covered most of the body, the Saxon/Viking shield was a much smaller round shield which covered the torso and possibly the upper thighs at most. A man could be incapacitated just about as much by a arrow in the leg as by one in the torso. And if you lift the shield to catch arrows falling from above, you make yourself vulnerable to arrows coming in on a flatter trajectory. The Romans, because of the shape and size of their shields, were able to form a roof over themselves using the shields of the rear ranks while still maintaining a solid defense to the front. The Saxons/Vikings would not have been able to achieve this with their much smaller round shields.

The shieldwall was infact quite a solid form of defence, properly formed by experienced men it is almost impossible to break -being able to withstand a boarsnout (lots of men in full armour running into it).
The shields were more than adequete to repel the bows of the period, modern experiments have shown this. Infact nicknames for a shield in the 11th century was 'a nest of spears' (spears getting stuck in them, the owner breaking the spearhead off in the attempt to get it back and the man carrying on fighting as the spearpoint hadn't gone through) or a "forest of arrows" (same principle). the bows of the period were more than capable of going through chainmail but were nowhere near as powerful as the later longbow, an experienced warrior with a good shield wouldn't have much to fear from a bowman.
 
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