Spearmen

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 The mist and drifting smoke hung low over the battlefield, concealing the awful reality beneath. The stink of sweat, terror, and blood filled the air as the clang of steel rang over the valley, punctuating the roar and anguish of thousands of men gripped in fierce battle. In the midst of the turmoil stood a grizzled warrior, his aged face marked by the scars of countless wars. He was known simply as Durstan, but Dirstan was a name that instilled terror in his opponents and commanded respect among his men.

 

Durstan was a man forged in the fires of war, a seasoned veteran who rose through the ranks through pure tenacity and drive. His whole life, from the age of twelve, he was a soldier. As the commander of a squad of spearmen, he expected nothing less than the best from his men, and he led them with an iron will that tolerated no disobedience.

 

But even Durstan's leadership was put to the test on this day, since new to his troop were two men whose hate for one other was as intense as the fiercest of flames. Their names were Bryn and Eadric, and their violent enmity threatened to destabilise Durstan's squad. He had no idea what their beef was, and cared even less, but he needed his squad to work together to stay alive.

 

The truth was, both men were good soldiers, but in different ways, and both had skills that were valuable. Bryn was a towering monster with iron muscles and an equally ferocious temper. He had a reputation for being impulsive and reckless, storming into battle with no regard for his own or his friends' safety. Eadric, on the other hand, was a shrewd and calculating fighter with a sharp mind and a knack for strategy. He detested Bryn for his recklessness, viewing him as little more than a liability on the battlefield.

 

Despite their mutual contempt, Durstan realised he couldn't afford to allow their personal grudge jeopardise the objective at hand. The enemy forces were closing in,  and fast. Their numbers overwhelming, and Durstan’s position was isolated and virtually indefensible. Not a place you want to be. And it was not a ditch Durstan wanted to die in. But victory, which in this context was little more than not being dead by sunset, looked almost unattainable. If they were to have any hope of winning, Bryn and Eadric would have to set aside their differences and work together.

 

Durstan sighed heavily and summoned his two feuding warriors to his side. "Listen to me, both of you," he hissed, his voice gravelly. "Your minor squabbles and personal grudges are of no concern to me." What counts now is the survival of our group and the defeat of that massive gang of bastards out there who are coming for us. You to sort your shit out. Get over it, you're like two fishwives arguing over a salted herring. So pack it in, kiss and make up. Share the fucking fish and fight as one, or I promise by the gods above that I will abandon you both to fend for yourselves. Without a spear and with my sword and shield rammed up your arse.”

 

Bryn and Eadric exchanged sad looks. They knew Durstan was not a man to be trifled with, and his remarks were the word of god. With a hesitant nod, they agreed to put aside their enmity and concentrate on the task at hand.

 

So, with Durstan leading the charge, Bryn and Eadric and the rest of the squad fought side by side, their spears glittering in the sunlight as they pushed back the enemy forces. The crucial moment came, like they always will, when men are trying to kill each other to make some rich ponce richer, when they were almost overrun. Three of the squad were down, two dead, one dying. the enemy were literally a bad breath distance away and Eadric saved Bryn by shoving his short dagger up through Bryn’s legs and into the perineum of the man who was trying to skewer Bryn with a spear. With a scream, the enemy went down, clutching his parts. Bryn went berserk and stabbed, pushed and smashed forward and held their line. By some miracle they survived.

 

Much, much later, after they had slowly trudged from the field, having first looted as much wealth and as many decent weapons and armour as they could carry, they sat around a fire, eating and drinking.

 

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it”  Durstan said to the two of them.

“No Boss,” they both said in unison. 

“Well then, remember it and don’t be a pair of twats. You fought well, and we’re lucky to be alive.”

“Yes Boss,” they said.

 

Eadric stole a piece of meat from Bryn’s plate. Bryn drank Eadric’s beer. Eadric stabbed Bryn in the hand. Bryn bashed Eadric with a burning log from the fire.

 

“FFS,” said Durstan, punching them both in the ear.

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