Thousands of Frankish peasants and heavily armored knights worked together to unhitch the carts.
They were frantically hauling the artillery pieces into a long firing line just out of the reach of the Viking rifles.
"Keep them moving, you lazy dogs!" Hugh roared loudly, "I want those barrels pointed at that hole in their wall! Today, we bleed the northmen dry!"
Count Boso rode up beside the Marshal, "Marshal Hugh," Boso grinned. "The priests from Paris arrived with the supply train this morning. They are walking through the ranks right now, blessing the cannons with holy water and praying for a glorious slaughter."
Hugh let out a laugh. "Let them pray, Boso. The Church knows exactly who the real enemy is. King Ragnar and his iron demons are a plague upon this earth."
After all, if the Pope supported this Frankish marshal, then clearly God must be on his side, or so he thought.
