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... of Scotland lay trampled in the muck, their red lions torn to rags.

Norse shields, too, were shattered across the ground, split boards smeared with blood, broken spears jutting like a forest of splinters.

Ravens circled already, their harsh cries mingling with the groans of the dying.

Svein stood in the wreckage, helm dented, his gilt circlet bent and bloodied.

His sword dripped red as he leaned on it like a staff, his chest heaving.

Around him his huscarl ...

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