The Warrior with the Pierced Heart

by Chris Bishop

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was as I prepared myself for the contest that the doubts began to grow ever more vivid in my mind. Not only did I fear that I was no match for Torstein, I was also worried that being still weary from all my exertions, the wound to my chest would make me tire too easily and thereby prevent me from giving a good account of myself. Yet I knew he was equally concerned about the prospect of killing me, fearing what might come of slaying a man who he believed had returned from the dead. Strange that the wound which should have killed me in the first place was now my best chance of survival – and had actually prevented me from being slain several times at least. But I sensed all that had changed as Torstein seemed not only desperate to avenge the loss of all that which I’d cost him when I capsized his boat, he also needed to repair his own reputation as a warrior after having lost so many men during his raids and having nothing to show for it.

  As we prepared ourselves, I was given my father’s sword which, as agreed, I was to be allowed to use and which I was told had survived the river when the man who’d taken it from me was also rescued. He looked less than pleased at giving it up and I was worried lest he challenge me as well. Any qualms I had on that account were quickly quelled when it became obvious that he, like others, was not keen to fight a man with my reputation.

  As soon as I held the sword again it felt as if it somehow belonged in my hand. The Vikings believed that a sword embodied the reputation not only of the man who owned it, but also that of all those whose blood had soiled its blade. Strangely enough, from the moment I picked it up I felt the strength and courage of both Edwin and my father, both of whom had wielded it with such pride. It was almost as though they were suddenly there in spirit to guide me and protect me. Emboldened by that, I tried a few strokes and felt again the perfect weight and balance that only such a fine weapon could bestow. With that I began to feel that at least I had a chance.

  Through all of this Torstein remained unusually quiet. He was fully armed, resplendent in a mail vest, helmet and shield. His own war gear had been lost to the river, but he’d borrowed what he was wearing from another warrior. He also carried a seax tucked into his belt and a smaller blade lodged in a sheath bound tight against the lower part of his leg. As I looked at him I tried to recall all that Edwin had taught me about fighting and began looking for any weakness I might be able to exploit. I had already worked out one way the warrior might be beaten and that stemmed from the fact that despite many opportunities, he had always seemed reluctant to kill me, fearing it would bring him ill fortune if he did. If those doubts still troubled him, that might well help to stay his hand at the crucial moment – and that hesitation allow me vital moments to prevail. I therefore resolved to play upon his concerns as fully as I could. I started by stripping off my tunic to stand before him bare chested so that he could clearly see the scar on my chest. I could tell from the look in his eyes that my ploy had worked well enough.

  Before fighting, we each turned to acknowledge Jarl Hakon. Torstein knelt before him and kissed his ring again whereas I allowed him nothing more than a respectful nod of my head.

  That done, I turned away then made great play of falling to my knees and praying with my hands clasped together and raised towards God, recalling again that Torstein was intrigued and more than a little afraid of the one he called the nailed God. I remained at prayer for longer than was needed then, just when Torstein seemed to be losing patience, I made him wait a little longer before getting up and borrowing a shield and a seax which were offered by one of the other Vikings. I then drew my sword and tried a few more short strokes with it before standing ready for the contest to begin.

  * * * * *

  As I expected, Torstein was tired of waiting. He lurched towards me like a dog springing to the attack. He clearly intended to finish the fight quickly but moved less freely than me so all I had to do was step aside, making no attempt to strike him.

  Surprised, Torstein turned to face me then came at me again, this time swinging his sword as though to cut my head from my shoulders. I well remembered how Edwin had taught me to deal with such an assault by leaning back and letting the blade sweep past me but, I confess, when it came to it I lacked the nerve to stand my ground. Instead, I simply raised my shield to counter the blow then ducked beneath it. Torstein looked at me smugly, knowing that avoiding him thus betrayed a lack of sword craft on my part.

  We circled each other for a few moments before he came at me again, this time charging straight at me, ramming his shield into mine and catching me off balance. I stumbled yet managed to keep my feet but then he struck my shield again with his, this time so hard that I was sent sprawling to the ground. To my relief he didn’t close in for the kill. Instead, he paraded himself before all those who watched, roaring loudly and urging them to acknowledge his skill.

  As I got up I realised that my lip was bleeding freely from where I’d caught it, probably on the edge of my own shield. I wiped my mouth with my hand and stared at the blood. Perhaps that’s what it took for me to realise just how close I was to being slain. More likely the sight of the blood reminded me that I still needed to avenge all my men who’d been butchered on Torstein’s orders. Either way it was enough to stir me into action. I ran straight at Torstein who barely had time to turn and face me as I crashed headlong into him. Somehow he managed to remain on his feet but he seemed stunned as I struck him again and again with my shield, ramming it into his and driving him back.

  As soon as I relented he looked at me and smiled. ‘So there’s yet enough life left in you to make a fight of it!’ he challenged.

  With that we closed on each other again. This time I stood my ground and countered his strokes with my sword and shield. As I did so, I felt the power of his arm as our weapons clashed together, something which I knew my brother Edwin would not have approved of lest the blades were spoiled. The strange thing was that after all my exertions whilst rowing, my arm felt stronger than ever and I found I was able to match Torstein, blow for blow. Yet I knew that if I continued to trade strokes with such a skilled warrior he would surely get the better of me in the end; thus I caught his shield on mine then heaved him back with all my might to give myself some respite from the fray. No sooner had I done so than I realised that my own shield had split and was therefore all but useless.

  As I tossed the broken shield aside Torstein must have sensed victory. He lowered his weapon and smiled at me again. ‘It seems your nailed God wants you back after all,’ he said, then raised his own shield once more and started towards me, by then confident of victory.

  There was nothing I could do without a shield except to get in close enough to at least impede his strokes, but even that wouldn’t protect me for long. Already I was tiring just as I feared I would and knew I had to finish it. Then I recalled something I had once seen Osric do – as head of Alfred’s personal guard he favoured combat at close quarters and I knew that to copy his move might be my only chance.

  As Torstein closed on me I made no attempt to avoid him. Instead, I held myself ready and, as he thrust his shield forward meaning to follow it with a swift stroke from his sword, I grabbed the top edge of it with my free hand and gripped it tightly. Quickly stepping to one side of him, I then jerked the shield down before driving my sword hard into his exposed shoulder. His mail vest saved him, but I knew that at least the point of my blade had pierced his flesh. Sure enough, as he reeled away I could see he’d felt the blow keenly enough and that blood was oozing from the wound.

  For a moment we faced each other once more. He looked unnerved by what had happened and more than a little surprised. I doubt that the wound troubled him greatly, but it made him realise that the fight was far from over. If nothing else, it made it difficult for him to hold his shield properly so that it looked heavy in his hand, though he wouldn’t release it altogether. Also, with the weight of his mail vest and with his sword feeling heavier with every stroke, he looked to be almost as weary as me. Then, as he man
aged to compose himself, I knew what was coming next, just as I knew he’d toyed with me long enough. Edwin’s words rang in my ears. ‘Strike and prevail,’ he always advised me, ‘strike and prevail’. Surely that would now be Torstein’s plan as well?

  He came at me hard and fast, crouching low beneath his shield to protect his already wounded shoulder, then heaved his sword towards me with all his might. All I had to do was lean back to avoid his blade then hack at his legs as he went past me, scything the blade into the back of his knee. He stumbled and then fell heavily to the ground where he lay as if not quite sure what had happened.

  The wound to his leg was not serious but, impeded by his heavy mail vest and desperate not to let go of either his sword or his shield, he struggled to gain his feet. Yet even on the ground he was far from helpless. As I moved in closer he lashed out with his sword to keep me at bay but must have known then that the contest was mine – he couldn’t keep that up for ever and I certainly wasn’t about to give him any chance to get up!

  Even though I now had the advantage, I knew I had to time my next move well. As he swiped at my legs again and again with his sword I simply stayed out of reach and waited for his arm to tire. When it did, his strokes became slow and laboured so, seizing my chance, I moved in closer and hacked at the lower part of his outstretched leg with my sword.

  This time my blow was delivered with all the force needed to all but sever his foot at the ankle. He roared with pain, dropping his weapons as he reached out to nurse his wound. As he did so, I quickly stepped in behind him and pressed the blade of my seax hard against his throat.

  He was powerless to resist. Even if he could escape my blade there was no hope of him fighting on as he couldn’t possibly stand with his foot so badly injured. I smiled to myself remembering Aelred’s story about the little man in the land of giants. It had proved a meaningful tale as Torstein, a bigger and more accomplished warrior than I, was at my mercy.

  ‘Argh!’ he groaned. ‘S-so your G-God has n-no need of you?’

  I smiled. ‘So it seems,’ I said, then looked to Hakon to see whether he was inclined to have me show any mercy. He just looked away so I knew that Torstein’s fate was sealed.

  Given all his wounds and that he had a blade pressed hard against his throat, Torstein must have known it as well. ‘I’m d-done,’ he said bravely, his voice rasped with pain. Clearly accepting his lot, he removed his helmet and, as he did so, I picked up his sword and returned it to him, knowing that if he died whilst still holding it his path to Valhalla was assured. As he weighed the weapon in his hand he gave a wry smile and nodded as if to thank me for the courtesy.

  ‘D-do it!’ he insisted without showing even the slightest sign of fear.

  Strangely, though I still craved vengeance, I found I had no deep-seated wish to kill him. I therefore hesitated for a moment as though inclined to let him live.

  ‘K-kill me!’ he demanded. ‘D-don’t leave me to live like a h-hobbled cr-cripple!’

  I knew then I had no choice so turned to Hakon. ‘I’ll finish him if you spare Cenric as well,’ I insisted. ‘I offer Jarl Torstein a clean and honourable death in return for the life of your prisoner and freedom for myself.’

  Torstein looked at Hakon making it clear what he wanted.

  Still Hakon hesitated. He had the option of killing Torstein himself, or rather having one of his men do it for him, but that way Torstein would be denied his place in Valhalla. After a few moments he agreed that he would stay the execution, the plight of Cenric being of little consequence to him.

  As soon as he’d made his decision I had to act. ‘May your Gods have mercy on your soul,’ I whispered, then drew the blade across his throat.

  Torstein died without complaint and, although still not at ease with killing anyone, I reasoned that I’d now killed so many that one more would not make much difference. In any event, he had deserved to die. How else was I to avenge my men? Yet, having taken his life, I felt no great satisfaction from it – though I confess I was secretly proud that my skills as a warrior remained intact in spite of all I’d endured.

  * * * * *

  As two of his men carried off Torstein’s body, they glowered at me as though thirsting for revenge. Jarl Hakon seemed more charitable. Even though he made some aside, he stopped Ulf from translating it.

  ‘You have proved your point and earned your freedom,’ said Ulf. ‘You may go in peace. My Lord will send word to Lord Alfred of your return and will send a man to ride with you under his protection to ensure you travel safely. The man will then need Lord Alfred to grant him safe passage to return to us with the horses.’

  I thanked him then sheathed my sword, symbolically securing the peace tie as I did so. ‘And what of this man?’ I asked, inclining my head towards Cenric who still hung by his arms from the scaffold. Given that he’d been there since the day before I was surprised he was still alive.

  Hakon shrugged. ‘It will be as was agreed,’ said Ulf. ‘Though he deserves to die.’

  Ulf summoned a man who had been watching the fight and said something to him.

  ‘As my Lord has promised, we will not complete the execution of this wretch, but this man is the brother of the one he killed,’ explained Ulf. ‘Vengeance is his if he wants it. That is our way.’

  ‘But Cenric is in no fit state to fight this man or any other! He’ll scarce be able to stand when you release him!’ I said angrily, sensing I’d been duped.

  Ulf shrugged. ‘He must reap what he has sown, as must we all. That is not a matter for my Lord to determine, but a just and legal issue for these men to settle between them as best they may.’

  With that, the man walked across then took the rope to which Cenric’s arms were tied. I thought at first that he planned to honour Hakon’s word but instead he hoisted Cenric even higher so that he could no longer rest his feet on the ground. Then he drew his knife and without so much as a word to anyone, thrust it hard into Cenric’s belly before twisting the blade.

  Cenric looked down at me as he died. In a way I think he realised he’d got off lightly given that the Vikings knew how to make death linger, sometimes even for many days.

  ‘Bastards!’ I whispered under my breath. ‘You gave me your word!’

  ‘My Lord gave his word to spare Cenric from execution,’ said Ulf. ‘He has honoured that but this man craved vengeance and had a score of his own to settle, so my Lord’s word cannot bind him.’

  ‘This is nothing but trickery!’ I stormed accusingly.

  Ulf just smiled. ‘He killed one of our warriors so was bound to die. Even if we’d set him free the family of the man he killed would have found him. Besides, he was all but dead already.’

  For a moment I was silent, not sure what to say. There was nothing I could do to help Cenric and I realised that with such a callous regard for what had been promised, my own life still hung in the balance. Instead, I glared at Jarl Hakon. ‘Such treachery is beyond contempt,’ I muttered. ‘How do I know you’ll honour the other part of the bargain and release me?’

  ‘Jarl Hakon’s word is good,’ said Ulf. ‘We would know when it is that you plan to leave?’

  ‘I’ll leave at first light tomorrow,’ I managed bitterly.

  ‘So soon?’ said Ulf.

  ‘I have not seen my woman for many months and am anxious to return to her with all possible speed,’ I said.

  Ulf smiled knowingly then acknowledged the request but insisted that I dine with Jarl Hakon in person that evening. Although I had no wish to sit at table with a man who had allowed Cenric to be butchered so coldly, I knew I dare not refuse as it was intended to be a great honour. Therefore that evening I sat with him and other Jarls in the chieftain’s tent and, through Ulf, discussed many things. In particular, they were all anxious to know how we’d defeated Ubba at Combwich. As we’d left no survivors there they had not heard of how the battle was fought. I said only that we took them by surprise, not mentioning that most of the berserkers died having
been ambushed by arrows and slingshot as they tried to cross the ford.

  ‘Lord Alfred has shown himself to be a great warrior,’ said Ulf. ‘We are all much impressed by him.’

  ‘Lord Alfred is not just a great warrior; he’s an even greater King. And a wise one. He seeks only to bring peace to this troubled land.’

  One of the servants, or more likely a slave, passed me a plate of boiled mutton. ‘When I dined at Lord Guthrum’s table I was given only scraps. Now I see what I missed,’ I remarked.

  It was indeed true. The table was laden with meats and smoked fish, fresh fruits and all manner of honeyed cakes and bread. We also drank our fill from a pitcher of hot spiced wine. When it was done we made our farewells. Hakon said that although he was saddened that it had cost the life of his friend and ally, Jarl Torstein, he wished me no ill as at least Torstein had died well. He also told me that Alfred was now at Winchester, not Chippenham, something I had already guessed might be the case.

  ‘My Lord would have you assure Lord Alfred that the men here mean him no ill. They will soon disperse so he has nothing to fear from us.’

  ‘Is that so?’ I said. ‘Then I will tell Lord Alfred that when I see him.’ Of course I didn’t believe a word of it, any more than would Alfred, and the more they tried to convince me the more I suspected that what they said was nothing but lies.

  As I left Hakon’s tent I was unsure as to whether I could bring myself to shake his hand, but he had no such reservations. My only concern was whether he fully intended for me to reach Winchester alive. I knew he dared not lose face by going back on his word to free me, yet neither could he afford for me to report all I’d seen to Alfred. Therefore I had sense enough to realise that the man sent to escort me might well have orders to kill me along the way. As such I suspected that the most dangerous part of my long journey was yet to come.