Back on the battlements, the 2,000 traditional Wessex infantrymen gripped their wooden spears.
When they saw the sheer mass of tens of thousands of men charging at them, their knees began to knock together.
The Wessex soldiers felt their fear slowly melt away, replaced by a deep trust in this strange king from the north. He was a smart, hard-working leader who clearly had a plan to protect them.
"They are charging, Iron Father!" shouted the Viking Captain of the Grenadiers, tightening his grip on his repeating musket.
"I see them, Captain," Ragnar replied. "They don't realize that closing the distance just brings them into a new range of trouble."
Ragnar raised his hand, gesturing to the highest ridge of the wall.
Standing there were 500 men, holding the primitive prototype rifles. They were simple iron tubes mounted on wooden stocks, but they were about to change the history of infantry warfare forever.
"Riflemen!" Ragnar's voice boomed across the courtyard. "Present arms!"
