It was the year 865 AD during a time in which Northumbria was to enter one of its darkest days. Most of those had not acted with the piety that a Christian as they either neglected their Christian duty or they acted so high and mighty as if they were God's spokesman and yet acted impiously as they got themselves drunk, bribed, and whored among the kingdom. A wicked man had seized the throne and even seized the rightful king's wife. Those self righteous in their minds and hearts had also looked down upon my mother and myself because of an affair she had with one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. These self righteous had hated me as well because I was a bastard and thus was viewed by these self righteous people viewed me as an abomination, especially being the bastard of a heathen barbarian who's father had raided upon our shores.
Ælla of Northumbria this wicked king was called. Having captured Ragnar Lothbrok, he had thrown him into a pit of vipers in an act of vengeance but in doing so, it would change the fate of the four kingdoms of my Saxon race. Around the same time, he had stolen half of my family's estate and many of our churls had been dispossessed and had to seek refuge else ware and many had become paupers in the process. It wasn't long before a civil war had erupted but this civil war had come to an abrupt halt as Osberht and Ælla had agreed to put their petty differences aside to fight a common enemy, though ironically, one of the Viking warlords not only came to Northumbria to punish Ælla, but had every intention of reinstalling Osberht as the king of Northumbria as was his birthright. It was on the fateful day in which many of the Vikings among the Danes most of all as well as other groups of Northmen, Swedes, Geats, Berserkers, Hooligans, Wolflings, and a relatively new tribe called the Warborne who came from the archipelago of the Hooligans and the Berserkers had landed off the coast.
Ælla marched with a regiment or battalion of soldiers and drafted peasants which our race of Saxons referred to as the fyrds. He had hoped that the high ground alone would give him the benefit and with a relatively small force, or at least what he would consider larger than most of the raiders, but what he didn't realize is that these were not raiders, but invaders. When he had seen the small band of Hooligan warriors led by Stoick the Vast, who had ironically been supported by King Eadmund of East Anglia as Eadmund intended to witness to them for Christ our savior as well as overthrowing a false king, he had also been intending to overthrow Ælla as he knew that his lawless and godless acts were dishonorable and worthy of death.
Ælla had originally dispatched his forces in East Anglia without the permission of King Eadmund and seeing Stoick's force from Berk, he was not impressed. Many of the East Anglian Saxons had called them the Great Heathen army though Ælla then found it amusing.
"Not such a great army after all, my lord bishop," Ælla so mockingly said to his bishop who rode alongside him. "What do you think your grace? I think we can expect to dispose of these heathens quite easily."
"No matter how this ends," Stoick said to his men, "It ends today."
Just then, the first group of the Berserker soldiers showed up with Oswald who snapped at Ælla, "By killing Ragnar Lothbrok, you've declared war on the Berserkers as well."
Then the vanguard of the Danish army along with my uncles Halfdan, the king of Denmark along with my two other uncles Sigurd and our nemesis Guthrum showed up with the vanguard of the Danish host. Then the vanguard of the Norse led by a man named Floki came and reinforced the Berserkers and the Hooligans and thus the force appeared three times in size that appeared which would have put their numbers slightly above those of the false king Ælla. Among the Norse arrivals was the legendary Harald Fairhair whom had little interest in conquest among the lands of England but more interest in avenging Ragnar Lothbrok.
Among my uncles, who then arrived with reinforcements were my uncles Haesten, Ubbe, Hvitserk, my father Bjorn Ironside, Norbert of the Warborne, and my wicked uncle Ivar, whom many called boneless. As the leaders were all assembled, first a Berkian horn sounded and then a horn from each of the leaders of each tribe sounded off, leading to a great assembly of the entire army of all the Vikings, which had then numbered in the thousands, perhaps almost ten thousand. The smirk from king Ælla then disappeared as he saw that he went from having a slight advantage in numbers as well as technology to being outnumbered more than three to one. Then Haesten and Harald let loose a series of war cries which made the Saxons shiver in their armor.
"God help us!" the bishop exclaimed.
"I don't think he can," the false king Ælla blasphemed.
"VALHALLA!" Norbert cried along with Haesten.
"RAGNAR!" Bjorn Ironsides cried as he led the charge with the Swedish vanguard.
Each of the warlords of the heathen army then gave their cries as they charged. The Saxons atop the hill quivered as they then saw their own king begin to ride off, abandoning them upon the field of battle. The truth of the matter is that they could have held off the horde of Viking invaders, but Ælla's blasphemy brought God's judgment down upon the Saxon ranks as first Oswald and his Berserkers smashed through the Northumbrian shield wall and then every other host surrounded the army with their shield wall and had most of them slaughtered.