Kings and Pawns

by James L. Nelson

  Kings and Pawns

  A Novel of Viking Age Ireland

  Book Nine of The Norsemen Saga

  James L. Nelson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  Fore Topsail Press

  64 Ash Point Road

  Harpswell, Maine, 04079

  All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by U.S. Copyright Law.

  Copyright © 2019 James L. Nelson

  Maps by Chris Boyle

  All rights reserved

  ISBN-13: 978-0-578-51510-6

  ISBN-10: 0-578-51510-5

  To Elizabeth Page, who made me feel welcome from the get-go, with love and gratitude for all your kindness over the years.

  For terminology, see Glossary, End of Book

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  The Saga of Thorgrim Night Wolf

  There was a man named Thorgrim Ulfsson, known as Thorgrim Night Wolf, who lived in Vik, which is in East Agder. As a young man he had gone raiding to the west with a local jarl named Ornolf Hrafnsson who was called Ornolf the Restless because he did not like to remain long at home. Thorgrim was one of Ornolf’s men, but soon he became the leader of the other men and served as Ornolf’s second. They had great success in their raiding and after some time returned to their farms in Norway where they enjoyed great wealth and fame.

  Soon after returning to their homes, Ornolf offered the hand of his daughter, Hallbera, to Thorgrim in marriage. It was an arrangement that was agreeable to all, most of all to the two who were to be married. Thorgrim gave Ornolf fifty silver coins as his bride-price. Ornolf was also generous, as he loved both Thorgrim and his daughter. For a dowry Ornolf gave them a farm which was several miles north of Vik, in a place called Fevik. Though this was a very fine farm indeed, still Thorgrim decided to remain on his own land, and hired a free man as overseer of the second farm. But Thorgrim kept close watch on what was done at the farm in Fevik, and because he was as skilled at farming as he was at shipbuilding and raiding, the farm prospered and the land was bountiful.

  Thorgrim and Hallbera were married for ten years, and in that time Hallbera bore Thorgrim Night Wolf three children. The first two were sons named Odd and Harald, and the third a girl, who they called Hild. Their farm prospered and Thorgrim’s wealth and fame continued to grow until he was considered one of the leading men of that region, second only to the jarl Ornolf, who was Thorgrim’s father-in-law. Thorgrim and Hallbera and their children were very happy on the farm.

  When Odd became a man he wed a woman named Signy Olafsdottir whose father also had a farm in Vik. The wedding was a great affair. Thorgrim and Hallbera threw a wedding feast in Thorgrim’s hall, and the people who lived in the countryside all around were invited. The feast lasted for three days and it was spoken of for many years after.

  As a wedding gift, Thorgrim gave Odd and Signy the farm in Fevik that Ornolf had given him and Hallbera at their own wedding. Odd and his wife moved to the farm and Odd took over the running of it. Like Thorgrim, Odd was an intelligent man and had learned much about farming from his father, and soon the prosperous farm was more prosperous still, until it nearly rivaled Thorgrim’s own land. Odd made many improvements in the land and the buildings. He expanded the longhouse into a great hall so that he could entertain neighbors and men of importance who were traveling there.

  In the first years of their marriage Signy gave Odd three children: a son they named Ornolf, a daughter Thorgid, and another daughter they called Hallbera after Odd’s mother.

  Odd’s mother, however, did not live to see her namesake. Soon after Odd and Signy were married, Hallbera conceived another child. Hallbera was not a young woman by then, and she died in childbirth, though the child lived. It was a daughter, and so great was the love that Thorgrim bore for his wife he named the child Hallbera as well.

  Around this time Ornolf the Restless was once again eager to go raiding. The Northmen had just begun to plunder the country of Ireland, and to build longphorts there, and Ornolf, who had heard the tales, wished to go and see for himself, and he asked Thorgrim to accompany him. Now, Ornolf had asked Thorgrim many times over the years to go raiding once again, but Thorgrim was happy with his life on the farm and did not care to leave. But the death of Hallbera made it hard for him to stay, and so he agreed to join Ornolf for the summer’s raiding to the west.

  In Vik, and in all that country, young men were raised to be farmers and warriors both, and that was also true of Harald and Odd. When Thorgrim decided to sail with Ornolf, both were eager to go raiding with him. A young man like Odd did not understand how great were his joys at home, with a fine wife and children, but Thorgrim understood that, even more with the death of his own wife. He knew as well how hard it would be on Signy and the children if Odd were to leave them to go a’viking and so he convinced Odd to remain at home.

  Finally, Thorgrim and Harald joined Ornolf and his crew aboard the longship Red Dragon and they sailed to Ireland where they met with many adventures and won and lost several fortunes. They had meant to stay in Ireland for one season only, but the gods willed that they should not leave so easily and so they were several years in that country. Ornolf was struck down in battle at a place called Vík-ló and Thorgrim became the leader of his men. For a while he was lord of the longphort of Vík-ló and his men called him Lord Thorgrim. But finally he and his men grew tired of that place and decided to go a’viking once again, and see if perhaps the gods would allow them to return to their homes in Norway.

  They came at last to a place the Irish called Loch Garman and built a longphort where they could repair their sea-damaged ships and build new sails from cloth bought from the Irish at a monastery called Ferns. While they were there, their company was joined by another band of Northmen, and soon Thorgrim had eight ships and more than three hundred men under his command.

  Thorgrim had decided at that time that he would not leave Ireland, but rather would return to Vík-ló and once again be lord of that place. But before he could sail, the Irish, led by a monk named Brother Bécc, attacked the longphort and caused great slaughter. Thorgrim and his men got their ships underway with the thought of crossing the bay to the far shore, but a storm came up and it blew them out into the open sea. For three
days the storm raged and the Northmen could do nothing but hunker down and ask the gods to deliver them.

  And the gods did just that, save for the smallest ship of the fleet, named Falcon, which was not to be found when the storm ended. The Northmen found themselves in the middle of the ocean, with no idea where they were. Thorgrim chose a course by his best guess, and several days later they landed at a place they did not know, but soon found it was the country Engla-land where Thorgrim had raided with Ornolf as a young man.

  Engla-land was a country of great wealth, as Thorgrim knew, and soon they found a rich monastery and captured it, finding considerable plunder and nearly two hundred English men-at-arms. The prisoners they meant to sell as slaves, but soon an Englishman named Oswin arrived and said that his lord would be willing to pay ransom for the men-at-arms and the priests as well. Thorgrim and his lead men decided that they would wait long enough to see if Oswin would make good on that offer.

  Here is what happened.

  Chapter One

  Now of thy wolves take

  one from out the stall;

  let him now

  with my hog run.

  The Poetic Edda

  It was dark and Thorgrim Night Wolf was running. The ground was moving swiftly under his feet, a fine sensation, odd and familiar at the same time, the tall grass brushing against him as he raced through it. He felt his body moving in a smooth, easy, nearly effortless way. The stiff elbows and knees were no more, the tight pull of the old wound in his back, the sharp stab of pain he often felt from the spear he had recently taken in side, all gone. It was the motion of power, and youth.

  He was aware of the scents in the air. They, too, were both familiar and strange. He could smell wood smoke and the scent of animals, the odor of wet grass and the salty tang of the sea, not so far off. He could smell men. A lot of men. And they, too, were not so far off.

  The ground rose up before him and he slowed, not because he was growing tired—he wasn’t—but because he knew the men were very near now. It was no longer time for speed, it was time for stealth.

  He paused in the dark and let the scents and the sounds settle over him. It was mostly men now, their smell overpowering the smell of horses and smoldering fires and leather and iron and cooked food. He could hear them moving about, but just barely. A shuffle and then silence, a muted cough. A few words spoken in a harsh, low voice. Many men, being as quiet as they could be, which was not very quiet at all. At least not for Thorgrim’s sharp ears.

  He moved again, slowly, and even he could not hear the sounds of his own footfalls on the soft ground. He came to the top of the rise and bent low as he passed the crest and peered over. There was nothing below that surprised him. He had seen this sight before, many times.

  There were tents. Rows of them, dull white, like old, exposed bones in the light of the sliver of moon overhead. Here and there a torch guttered or a small fire still burned, but Thorgrim did not look at them. He knew the light would impair his vision in the dark. And he knew it impaired the vision of the few men still awake in the camp, and that would make it harder yet for them to see him. Impossible, really.

  He moved down the hill. He could see the shapes of men silhouetted against the flames in the camp, sentries posted beyond the throw of the light, armed men staring out into the blackness, looking for any threat approaching from the dark country beyond. But Thorgrim knew they would see nothing. There were no threats out there, save for him, and they would not see him.

  The camp was laid out in a rough circle and Thorgrim moved around the perimeter. No clear thoughts came to his mind, no conclusions or observations. Nothing that could be articulated. Just impressions, senses, amorphous notions, but he took them all in, let them swirl like mist in his head.

  The big tents were near the far end of the camp, large, round, pavilion-style tents that seemed to glow from inside. There were candles burning in there, men still at work or men who feared the dark. But there were only two of them, set up twenty feet apart. Guards stood outside the flaps of each. They looked bored and drowsy. Thorgrim could not tell if they were paying any attention to anything around them. If something happened they looked like they would be dead before they raised the butts of their spears off the trampled ground.

  He moved on, coming to the far side of the camp. He had smelled the horses from a long distance away, long before he had seen the tents. Now the smell was growing more powerful, and with it he heard the animals shuffle nervously. The guards used their eyes to look out for danger, though sight was all but useless on that dark night. The horses used their hearing and their sense of smell, and even Thorgrim could not hide from that.

  He paused and he heard the shuffling continue and he knew if he approached any closer the shuffling would turn to whinnying and that would attract the attention of the guards. For a moment he remained motionless and he heard the sound of the horses settling back down. Then he turned and moved back the way he had come. None of the sentries cried out or gave any indication that they were aware at all of his presence.

  Then he was running again, the ground flying by, his muscles strong and tireless.

  And then he was awake. His joints ached and the wound in his side throbbed and he felt as if he had been beaten with a heavy stick.

  He opened his eyes, slowly. It was dark still, with just a hint of the dawn at the edge of the sky. He was lying on the ground. There was no fur or blanket over him, Failend was not by his side. Against the growing light in the east he could see the outline of a man, and even though he could not see anything beyond that, he knew it was Starri Deathless. Thorgrim moaned softly, involuntarily.

  “Night Wolf,” Starri said. It was a statement.

  Thorgrim pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around. He thought he was somewhere near the south wall of the monastery. The one they had captured and plundered the week before. Where they had fought with English men-at-arms who had been there for some reason. Thorgrim could not recall the name of the place. He did not know if he ever knew the name. Or cared.

  “Wolf dream?” Starri asked.

  Thorgrim groaned again as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He nodded his head, then realized that in the dark Starri probably could not see the gesture.

  “Yes,” he said. Wolf dream. He had had them since he was a young man. In the evening his temper would grow short and a black mood would consume him and he would have to stagger off and be by himself. He could not stand the presence of others, and in truth they could not stand him because they were afraid of him when he was like that. And after some time he would fall asleep and in his dreams he would travel over the countryside. He would see things. Things that would often turn out to be real.

  It was how he earned his name. Kveldulf. Night Wolf. The older he grew, the more infrequently the wolf dreams came, but he was not free of them yet. Some said that they were not dreams, that his soul took on the form of a wolf and ran over the land as truly as a real wolf would. Thorgrim had no idea if this was true, but he doubted it. Mostly.

  He looked over at Starri and he could see him more clearly now. Starri was fingering the charm he wore around his neck, a familiar gesture. It was the head of an arrow that had, in one of those odd occurrences that sometimes happen, struck the edge of Thorgrim’s sword in the moments before battle and stuck there, split perfectly down the center. It was when Starri and Thorgrim had first met.

  Thorgrim had pulled the arrow free and tossed it aside, but Starri took it as a sign that Thorgrim was blessed by the gods. He retrieved the arrowhead and had worn it on a cord around his neck ever since. And ever since he had rarely left Thorgrim’s side.

  That was particularly true when the dark mood came on, the precursor to a wolf dream. Since their first meeting Starri had always sat at Thorgrim’s side during those times. And, for reasons Thorgrim never understood, Starri was the one person he could stand to have near him then. Even his son Harald, whom he loved more than anyone alive, was intolerable t
o him. But not Starri.

  They had never spoken of it. Thorgrim did not know why Starri insisted on keeping him company, but he guessed the reasons were twofold. Starri wanted to make certain that Thorgrim’s physical form was safe in those times when his soul was wandering far afield. And Starri felt that when Thorgrim was having a wolf dream the gods were close at hand, and Starri wanted to be there, too.

  “What did you see?” Starri asked. He sounded like a calm and reasonable man. Starri always sounded that way when Thorgrim woke from a wolf dream. It was one of the only times he did.

  Thorgrim made a grunting sound, but he did not answer at first. He thought back over the dream, the things that had appeared to him.

  “I saw men,” he said at last. “A camp of warriors. Not too far from here.”

  “The ones that Jorund’s man Ofeig reported?”

  “I guess so,” Thorgrim said. “The army that this Oswin, shire reeve or whatever he’s called, did not know about.”

  When they had captured that monastery, Thorgrim sent out scouts in all directions to see what threats might be approaching. Ofeig had come across an army, which he guessed was about two hundred men strong, moving their way.

  Soon after, a fellow named Oswin had arrived at the gate, wishing to talk. He claimed to speak for the man who employed the men-at-arms Thorgrim’s men had taken when they took the monastery. He claimed he could arrange ransom for those men. He claimed he did not know about this other army, but he said it was a threat to him and to Thorgrim as well.

  I guess we’ll find out the truth of this, soon enough, Thorgrim had thought as the fellow Oswin rode away, claiming that he was off to arrange for the ransom.