Hárekr was running toward his horse to escape when he saw that three of his warriors had stopped to act as his human shields. He shouted at them urgently:
"Run! Do you not trust me?"
The warriors let out a dry laugh and replied in unison:
"We are more than satisfied to fight at your side, brother."
Hárekr let out a heavy sigh, mounted in a leap, and galloped to the front to give the others the necessary margin to mount their horses. The Saxon soldiers coming from the front formed a shield wall to block his path. In that instant of chaos, one of the Vikings trying to mount his horse was struck down by a Saxon and massacred with thrusts. Seeing the scene, the others did not lose a second: they broke the enemy formation by force and opened a breach.
The escape began. Torstein, who was carrying the wounded Thorir on his back, was already far ahead alongside the healer and her daughter. However, the warriors in the rear guard were closely pursued by a group of Saxon riders led by the same commander, who was yelling with fury:
"We cannot let them escape!"
They were blinded by rage: their king had been left lying in the mud with his face destroyed, and the doctors were doing the impossible to save his life.
One of the Vikings covering the retreat shouted to Hárekr from his mount:
"I am going to cut them off to stop them! You escape!"
Hárekr refused immediately and ordered him:
"It is already getting dark. If we ride coordinated in the darkness, we will lose sight of them."
The warrior nodded, but even so, he stayed in the rear guard, ready to give his life for his people and demonstrating absolute loyalty to his chieftain.
The hours passed. Night fell completely over the roads and visibility was reduced to nothing; they could barely guide themselves thanks to the half-torch they carried lit in the vanguard.
Hárekr, panting with exhaustion, noticed that the Saxons were not slowing their pace or showing signs of fatigue. Despite his bloodlust, he could not help but feel a certain respect for the enemy’s tenacity; he understood at that moment that he could never underestimate them again. Seeing that the horses were beginning to falter, he shouted to his men:
"They gave us mediocre horses! Jump into the forest! We will regroup in Dunbar!"
The warriors nodded. One of them, a young man of daring spirit, turned his mount around and galloped straight toward the group of eight Saxon riders pursuing them. Just before the impact, he made the animal jump into the thicket, causing the horse to crash head-on into the enemy mounts and sow chaos. This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
The Saxon commander, seeing the maneuver, pulled the reins and ordered his men:
"They are trying to flee through the underbrush. Ignore those going ahead; we have to hunt their leader."
He was referring directly to Hárekr.
Without thinking twice, the Saxon riders rode at full gallop into the dark and thick forest, an extremely dangerous terrain at that hour of the night due to the underbrush and uneven ground. Hidden among the bushes alongside the four warriors who had covered his back, Hárekr watched the enemy enter the natural trap. With his gaze fixed on the shadows, he spoke coldly:
"That commander... he has to die."
The men, exhausted and with stinging wounds, nodded in silence.
Further ahead, Torstein was galloping with the healer, her daughter, and two other warriors protecting the flanks. At a given moment, he turned to his warriors and ordered them:
"You go ahead. Find Einar and tell him to send reinforcements."
Thorir was breathing with difficulty, his body soaked in cold sweat due to the galloping fever consuming him. Torstein looked at him with deep concern, but at no moment did he think of Hárekr. He knew perfectly well what the boy was capable of; as long as he did not have an entire army formed in front of him, he would find a way to survive and emerge victorious.
Hours later, inside the forest, the situation worsened. The commander, calling for reinforcements, began to completely surround the area. For Hárekr and his men, being on foot, it was almost impossible to get out, not only because of the enemy siege but also because of the wolves roaming about and the hunt the Saxons had mounted.
Hárekr looked at his men and said:
"We must hunt them, steal their horses, and begin the escape."
One of the warriors shook his head and replied:
"It is complicated... That Saxon organized the group precisely to prevent that."
Hárekr nodded. At that instant, in the distance, barking was heard. They had brought dogs to track them.
Hearing the barking getting closer, the Vikings lost faith in being able to escape without fighting. The only option left was to face them. The three warriors looked at Hárekr, waiting for him to give the order to fight.
Hárekr noticed a Saxon rider approaching in the gloom and looked at one of his men, giving him the signal in silence. The warrior understood instantly. Within seconds, he stuck to the animal’s side and opened a brutal wound in its belly. The horse’s blood began to spurt like a stream. The Saxon fell with his mount, and they executed him on the spot. You are reading on novelping.com, the official source.
The wolves lurking in the shadows, smelling the fresh reek of blood, lunged in a pack toward the place. The other Saxons, realizing what was happening, shouted furiously:
"Those demons slaughtered the horse to attract the beasts!"
More wolves emerged from the darkness, attracted by the feast. The commander, enraged, ordered his men:
"Shoot those animals! They are going to frighten our mounts!"
The Saxon horses began to neigh and rear up on two legs in terror. Taking advantage of the disorder, Hárekr and his men ran off in great haste toward the thicket. They did not know where they were going; at that hour of the night, immersed in total darkness, they could see absolutely nothing.
One of the Saxon archers noticed the crunch of dry leaves and shouted:
"There they go!"
He prepared his bow along with the others, and they released a volley of arrows that fell upon them like a deadly drizzle. Hárekr, glancing sideways, saw one of his Vikings take an arrow directly to the back of the neck, falling dead on the spot.
Rage boiled inside him, but there was no time to mourn. He shouted to the two who remained with him:
"Run! There is no other option!"
After running blindly for several minutes under the freezing cold of the night, they felt their legs go numb all at once. Suddenly, the icy water reached their knees. One of the warriors exclaimed:
"We fell into a water current! It is a river!"
Hárekr nodded in the gloom and instructed them:
"Let us follow the course of the river downstream."