The mud of the northern fields was practically boiling...
Iron balls rained down from the sky like the angry fists of the gods, smashing into the wet earth and throwing geysers of black mud, splintered wood, and broken bodies high into the air.
The roar of the Viking artillery was relentless... Count Boso yanked the reins of his warhorse, trying to keep the animal from bucking him off.
"Pull back!" Boso screamed at the top of his lungs,"Get the men back! Retreat out of their fucking range right now!"
Thus, the once-proud Frankish vanguard was forced into a humiliating scramble... the heavily armored spearmen and the peasant laborers abandoned their positions around the giant bronze bombard.
They dropped their shovels, threw down their shields, and ran for their lives through the sucking mud.
Behind them, the bronze weapon that had just cracked the impenetrable walls of Calais was swallowed by the explosive iron rain.
