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OOC: really not happy with this! but here goes.

Excerpts from
The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation


Second Monday of Lent, 867

There is an uneasiness around the camp. The farmers and such who have been here these past few years have in turn been reinforced by soldiers defeated at Lindun or others who have heard of our cause and crossed the marshes from the north. Many of these men and women are angry and have hearts full of vengeance. As I have felt before and some turn to me to calm them. Without my consent I have become a figure of authority and faith. This latter troubles me as I am, in my heart a sinner, as yet unforgiven by my mother church. Still they turn to me. This night I travelled to the alter on the northern shore and prayed for guidance. The Lord was silent

As spring arrives, more reinforce our numbers and with them, news. The King once again seeks to drive a knife into the heart of the Norsemen. It is rumoured he seeks to cross the Cilterns (1) and either south to cut Whitgar and Sussex from Kent or east towards Laudenwic and onto the viking capital of Kanteskirk. Many of the men say this is risky, if the king is aware that the might of the viking army winters to our south at Lindun then perhaps he hopes to catch them off guard but if he goes too far without drawing them out he might expose his flank.

Meanwhile life on the Isle continues. As spring comes, crops are being sewn and animals are being taken out of houses into fields. Its a good sight and brings some warmth to our angry flock.


Second Tuesday of Lent

News has come to us which warms our hearts and reminds us of our rightous course. A trader though of ill repute (he came to us with wares taken from dead vikings still remaining on the north bank of the Humber) brings us news that an army of my countrymen has taken Glecaster from the British army that took it. Once again the monastary there turns to Glastonbury and Lindisfarne instead of distant Rome. While I do not wish great misery upon fellow Christians, Papal as they may be, they allied with the heathen vikings in their quest for vengeance against percieved slights carried out by my countrymen.


Second Wednesday of Lent

Many of the soldiers have been training hard and today parades through the south market, raising the spirits of all there. They are a strange bunch, I thought as I watched and applauded. No man entirely alike. With improvised or repaired weapons, never a full suit of matching armour. Many carry bows and travel light but there is also a strong core of shieldbearers who can take the fight to the enemy as those lighter pick their chance to strike. Dare I say I am proud of them? I indeed have helped them and I know they look to me. It was a strange moment to look back at my journey from baker’s daughter to sinner to soldier. I look at my strong arms and broad shoulders, dashed with scars. Once again I pray for guidance. Once again I am left wanting. Tomorrow I shall lend my hand to the farm instead of the soldier and find some purpose.



Palm Sunday, 867.

The king is on the march, his army is said to have left Repton a week or so again heading south East. This area of the border while uneven is not heavily enforced by either side so I hope he shall make it to the Thames Valley before the Norsemen commit.


The Monday before Easter, 867

Voices on the Island are calling for action. To relieve pressure on the Kings army, and if not then to at least bloody the Norsemen. It is suggested we, our smal army, march on Lindun, defeating viking garisons wherever we go. In fact so many are behind the idea, even if calmer voices are heard, they will be left behind

So we march on Lindun, to cause chaos for our foe. I pray we are successful. If this entry is my last, then I hope this diary is informative to those who remain



1st sunday after Easter

I return to Axea bloody and bruised. Of our 450, 300 remain, many injured. Two days after my last entry. We crossed the swamps slowly. Our numbers too swollen to sneak quickly in and out as we did when first arriving. We went first to Barton, then south to Brigg. Conquered but spirited Anglanders cheered us on and informed us that the Norse King Harkon indeed headed south to face my king Aethelred. We found his soldiers lacking, the strongest and boldest men gone to face the Great Army of Angland, leaving their garrisons exposed to this army of Angland.

We approached Lindun by night and a group of us snuck inside the city as hidden guests of citizens of Lindsay. Once inside our main force gave battle. They had built pyres near the city in the opposite side to our approach, launched flaming arrows into the city and created much noise. They never gave much battle though I know the blood of many of the soldiers yearned for it. For a night and into the day they would fight any sally forth from the norsemen with wooden stakes and concentrated volley fire.

Meanwhile, the core of the Wolfpack, those of us who’d four at Cerancaester, Laudenwick Repton and across the country headed into the city, Once snuck inside we took what useful supplies and indeed people we could. We took artefacts from desecrated altars and wayshrines to be used for their true Christian purpse. Despite the best attempts to distract the guards as dawn came we faced norsemen across the city. Fighting building to blood stained building we took food and weapons and when the time was ready we captured the north gate of the simple wooden wall around the city and headed north on foot, horse and cart. My only regrets and guilts are that I did not take more people with us and that we had to retreat before we could reach the Monastery at Lindun's heart.

We return victorious, or at least successful. Much of the city fled with us into the marsh. Many head onto Angland for safety but many stay with us. Our numbers grow and so do our hopes and yet my prayers are for those left in Lindun.


2nd Monday after Easter.

Saddening news. The kings army has been defeated in the Cilterns. My king misplaced the Viking army which flanked the Angland army and picked the ground on which they faced my countrymen. With these damaging odds the king fought on nonetheless. My king retreats to Tamoworig, bloodied but standing.

With this latest defeat I fear for the so called Daneland. King Harkon reigns undefeated.


Still, my fight goes on. To liberation and, I pray, redeption