‘Speaking of riding,’ Einar, still rowing, shouted over his shoulder, ‘Ulrich told me an interesting story that’s been heard around Avaldsnes, about last summer. I heard you were riding a mare that was in heat and a stallion took it by surprise. It was up on the mare’s back before it could do anything. The stallion had its forelegs over your shoulders and you were stuck there for the whole show. Well it looked like you were stuck. From what I heard it was hard to tell if the stallion was in the mare or you. Maybe you were just enjoying it too much to leave.’
‘You’re dead, Icelander,’ Narfi said from behind his shield. ‘Hurry and row over here. I can’t wait to gut you.’
Einar judged he was near enough to the skerry. He gave one final hard pull on the oars then dropped them. He stood up and turned around to face the direction the boat still travelled in. A few paces away was the skerry and Narfi and Bjorn, shields raised and swords ready. Einar gripped the broken spear just behind the long blade, holding it down by his side, concealed from the berserkers. Narfi was snarling like a beast and gnawing the iron rim of his shield. Blood from his gums flecked the metal. Einar could tell he was on the verge of berserkergang. He was about to lose all reason.
‘Come and get me,’ Einar shouted.
Seeing his enemy within reach, Narfi’s eyes rolled and he let out a howl as the rage took control of him. He jumped off the skerry onto the boat and came charging down it, sword raised to strike, bellowing like a bear as he came.
Einar stepped aside, turning his body away from the charging berserker. Carried by his own momentum, Narfi barged past him. Unable to stop himself, he fell off the end of the little boat.
There was a huge splash and Narfi disappeared beneath the surface. The water was deep and the weight of his mail, shield, weapons and armour pulled him straight to the bottom. In a moment he was gone. He did not resurface.
Bjorn was right behind him, his own sword raised to strike. Einar turned back to face him. He reached up and grabbed the wrist of Bjorn’s sword arm with his left hand, stopping it from falling. Einar shouldered Bjorn’s shield aside. He brought the broken spear up and stabbed it with all his might into Bjorn’s stomach. The blade went into the mail, split the iron rings, parted the leather beneath and drove into the berserker’s guts. Bjorn swore as Einar pulled his arm down and shoved him sideways off the boat. Bjorn toppled headfirst into the water. The weight of his armour dragged him straight to the bottom too.
Einar dropped to a crouch to stop the boat’s crazy rocking from throwing him overboard as well. He saw bubbles bursting on the surface, rising from the screaming mouths of the sunken berserkers. After a few moments the stream of bubbles slowed, then stopped altogether.
‘Einar! Is that you?’ Einar heard Ulrich’s voice. His face was almost under the surface and he coughed as some of the salty water ran into his mouth. ‘If it’s you then stop messing about and get us out of here.’
Fifty-Seven
Skar ran two fingers down the left cheek of the Blámaðr. The Blámaðr caught the big man’s hand and pushed it away from his face.
‘No,’ the Blámaðr said. ‘The colour does not rub off. It’s the colour of my skin. If I had a gold piece for every time one of your kind had tried to rub it off, I’d be richer than a king.’
Skar shrugged and sat back on his haunches.
‘Do you have a name?’ he asked.
They were sitting under the awning of Roan’s ship, heading north on the Northern Way whale road. Rain drizzled down from a darkening sky while all around was a rolling grey sea. Roan stood, placid as usual, at the steering oar. The rest, Ulrich, Skar, Bodvar, Sigurd, Atli, Kari, Starkad, Einar, Affreca and the Blámaðr, were huddled under the awning tent strung from the mast for cover from the elements. A fire was lit on the cooking stone and a pot hung over it. The mouth-watering aroma of seething meat filled the air.
Once Einar had freed the Wolf Coats from their bonds on the skerry, escape from Avaldsnes had been simple. With everyone who would have stopped them either dead or already gone, they had grabbed some supplies from the hall and its surrounding buildings. Almost everything had already been stripped and taken, but they were lucky to find some dry travelling clothes. The kitchens of the king had contained too many supplies for those fleeing to take so there was plenty for the taking, and it was food fit for a king. Those of the king’s retinue still there were doing the same as the Wolf Coats – taking things away – so no one questioned them. Best of all, they found several flagons of wine and a barrel of ale. Then they rolled the barrels down to the harbour to where Roan’s ship had been tied up, climbed aboard and set off.
As all the other ships were sailing south, Roan turned north and they sailed up the sound and away from the stragglers of the king’s retinue.
‘My name is Sayf al-Din,’ the Blámaðr said. He spoke the words as if he was even unsure himself.
‘Seifel – what?’ Skar said, his face screwed up as he tried to pronounce the foreign name.
The Blámaðr laughed.
‘It’s so long since anyone used my name,’ he said. ‘That I can barely remember how it is said myself.’
‘Are you a troll?’ Affreca asked.
The Blámaðr smiled and shook his head. ‘No, I am a man. I come from a land far to the south, beyond the great middle sea. Beyond the country you call Serkland.’
‘I was always told there was nothing beyond Serkland,’ Bodvar said. ‘The sun becomes so hot nothing can live there. The ground itself burns like fire.’
‘In some places that is true. I was born south of the vast sand sea,’ the Blámaðr said. ‘Many, many years ago. I was a warrior. A freeborn fighter, not a mamluk. We were enemies of the Fatimids so I travelled in the service of my lord to fight in the armies of the Emir of Córdoba, in al-Andalus.’
Seeing the blank expressions around him, he added ‘It was once a province of the Romans called Hispania before the men of our faith conquered it.’
‘Those Romans got everywhere,’ Einar said. ‘I’m sure they were giants. Or Dwarves.’
‘Your people attacked al-Andalus,’ the Blámaðr said. ‘You did not fare well. We defeated you, burned your ships with Greek Fire. But I was unlucky. In the war against the Fatimids I was captured and sold to berber slavers. I ended up in the slave market of Constantinople, the city you call Miklagard. A Norse merchant bought me there and took me north. He gave me as a gift to King Harald Fairhair. Harald kept me as a ring fighter the way some kings keep fighting dogs.’
He spat onto the hot stone. The others could almost smell the resentment boiling within him.
‘When Harald died, Eirik inherited me and used me the same way,’ he continued. For a moment he stared into the flames of the fire then he looked up at Affreca.
‘A troll is a sort of demon, yes?’ he said. ‘A supernatural creature? Like what we call djinn? An evil-working devil who belongs to the night?’
Affreca nodded.
‘Then perhaps I am one, at least in part,’ he said. ‘When I am fighting, sometimes it’s like a devil takes hold of me and turns me to a raging beast. All I want to do is kill my opponent, even though he has done nothing to me. Is nothing to me.’
‘It sounds like you’ll be in good company here,’ Skar said, looking around at the rest of the Wolf Coat crew.
‘What age are you?’ Atli asked.
‘I have no idea,’ the black-skinned man said. ‘I’m a lot older than all of you. But why ask me these questions now? I’ve seen most of you come and go from the king’s residence over the years. You never spoke to me then.’
‘Folk were only sent to meet you if they displeased King Eirik,’ Skar said. ‘And when they did, they never came back.’
‘Some say that south of Serkland is Muspelheim,’ Ulrich spoke for the first time. He had said little very since the voyage began. ‘It’s the land of fire that on the final day of Doom will spread north and consume the world.’
‘The way to Muspelheim is guard
ed by Surt,’ Skar said. ‘A giant whose skin has been burned black by the fires of Muspel. I can’t say your real name, my friend. So I think we should call you Surt. What do you think?’
The black man smiled. ‘As long as you keep on sailing me away from this place that has been my prison for so many years you can call me what you want,’ he said.
‘So what now?’ Skar said to Ulrich.
Ulrich sighed and rolled his eyes.
‘A short time ago we had a warship. We had the most expensive swords in the world. We had helmets and mail. We were special warriors of the king. Now we have this merchant tub. We still have not enough men to make a company of twelve. We have no mail, no armour. Our weapon hoard amounts to a couple of swords and a broken spear. We have no king, no lord. Worse, we’re the enemies of at least three kings. We’re landless, homeless. We’re wanderers on the whale roads.’
‘We really are Vikings now,’ Skar said with a smirk.
‘Perhaps,’ Ulrich said. ‘But without a king to fight for, what’s it all for?’
‘We should go to King Eirik,’ Atli said. ‘We should beg his forgiveness. Perhaps he will take us back into his service?’
For a long moment no one spoke. Instead everyone just looked at Atli. Finally, Ulrich stood up.
‘Fuck that,’ he said. ‘Fuck him.’
There were general nods and grunts of agreement from the rest.
‘Has anyone got a better idea?’ Atli said, jutting out his lower lip.
Einar stood up. He looked haggard, his skin was pale and there were dark rings beneath his eyes. He looked around at the others, meeting each of their eyes with an unflinching glare.
‘What do you think, Einar?’ Ulrich said.
‘Half of Norway is rising against Eirik,’ Einar said. ‘We should join the rebels.’
‘And what will we gain from that?’ said Atli.
‘Revenge,’ Einar said.
Glossary
There are many Old Norse, Old English and Gaelic terms used in the story and this glossary attempts to give a modern English translation. While they may seem foreign to modern eyes, Old Norse and Old English were sister languages, and often terms can become familiar when the pronunciation is made clear.
Aegir
Norse God of the sea
Aesir
One of the two tribes of Norse Gods. The other was the Vanir
Alþing
the Althing (Icelandic parliament)
aptrgangr
an "after-walker", a ghost or revanent
archu
(Irish Gaelic) slaughter hounds
berserkergang
"Going Berserk" - the uncontrollable rage that took over berserkers' minds when they went into battle, supposedly sent by Odin
Bifrost
The Rainbow Bridge from the earth to the home of the Gods (Asgard)
blóts
Sacrificial feast days (literally "bloods")
brynja
A coat of mail
Dísablót
“Disir blood”. A heathen religious festival that marked the start of winter. Surplus animals were sacrificed to the Disir, female spirits of the land, then the people feasted on their flesh.
Drápa
A form of Old Norse poetry
Fáfnir
A dragon form Norse mythology
fidla
A stringed musical instrument
Fimm Borginn
or Five Boroughs, areas in North-East England settled by the Norse
Fólkvangr
A Norse heavenly realm, alternative to Valhalla, which was ruled by the Goddess Freya
Freya (goddess)
"The Lady", a Norse Goddess
Freyr (god)
"The Lord", a Norse God
Frigg (goddess)
A norse Goddess, wife of Odin
Galdr
Both a heathen spell or incantation and the style in which it was sung. It is thought this style was loud or attention grabbing in some way (e.g. falsetto). It is the root of the modern Scots and Irish dialect word for shouting, to Gulder
Galdr maðr
Viking holy man
gangr plank
Gangr is the verb “to walk” in Norse. A plank to walk ashore from a ship. Hence the “gang plank” beloved of pirates.
Gatr
Wooden walkways used in towns. The origin of street names in towns like York that have the name "Gate" in them, e.g. Coppergate.
Goði
An Icelandic chieftain, responsible for o district. In the Viking Age the Goði was responsible for both keeping the Law and carrying out religious rites.
Hausakljúfr
"The Skull Cleaver" - nickname of the Jarl of Orkney
Hel
The modern term Hell comes from the Norse name of the Queen who ruled the kingdom where unworthy people (for example oath breakers and murderers) went to after death.
Hof
A heathen temple/church.
Holmgang
The term literally means “island going” but refers to a formal duel fought to resolve disputes between individuals.
Iriskr
Norse word for Irish
Jarl
A powerful Norse nobleman. Origin of the modern British title “Earl”
Jól
Yule. The midwinter festival of the Vikings.
Jötunn/Jötnar
A creature of chaos and darkness. Enemy of the Gods. Usually translated as “giant”.
Knarr
A heavy, wide bodied longship used for trading.
Knattleikr
A Viking age game played with sticks and a ball on ice. It seems to have been akin to modern ice hockey. In the Icelandic Sagas games usually end in some sort of violence.
Loki
One of the Norse Gods. Loki was a trickster, famous for deceit. He was the father of a trio of monstrous children and ultimately responsible for bringing about Ragnarök, the end of the world.
Mormaer
A Scots war leader
Niðing
Someone without honour. A villain.
Norns
Supernatural women responsible for defining the fates of people.
Odin
Chief of the Norse Gods, aka Woden to the English
Rán
Wife of the Norse sea God
Saga
literally “what was said”. It means a story, a tale or history, usually focussed on a central character.
Seidhr
Dark magic. Witchcraft.
Seiðkona
A female worker of dark magic
Seiðmaðr,
A male worker of dark magic
Skald
A professional poet/singer
skeiðs
fastest type of large warship, each with thirty rowing benches and crews of about ninety men
Snekkja
“Snake”: A light, fast warship.
Spaewife
“Spy wife” – a woman who could see the future. A wise woman.
Stafnbúi
Standard Bearer or Prowman.
strandhögg
viking food raid
Sunnudagr
the Sun’s Day, Sunday
tafl
A boardgame
Thrall
A slave. Root of the modern term “to enthral”.
Tyr, God of battles
Norse God of battles
Ulfberht
A type of Viking Age sword renowned for its quality that was inscribed with the maker's name (Ulfbehrt)
Úlfhéðnar
Ulf – Hreth-Nar: “Wolf Coats” or "Wolf Skins". Elite warriors dedicated to the worship of the heathen God Odin. The norse differentiated between the beserkers and the Úlfhéðnar.
Úlfhéðinn
A single Úlfhéðnar.
Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld
“What happened”, “what is happening” and “what will happen” or “Past”, “Present
” and “Future”. The Norse believed that down in the roots of the world three uncanny old women, the Norns, were weaving a tapestry that determined the fate of all men.
Valhalla/Valour Hall
The hall of Odin where the brave would feast and fight after death
valkyries
Lierally, "choosers of the [glorious] slain" - female spirits who took the souls of the brave to Odin's Valour Hall
Vidar, God of Vengence
Norse God of Vengence
Vǫlva
A witch who can foretell the future
Þing
“Thing”. The Norse held regular assemblies in the open air to hear law cases and make political decisions. These were at a local level and national level. The modern political term “hustings” derives from it.
Þorriblót
Spring feast
About the Author
Tim Hodkinson grew up in Northern Ireland where the rugged coast and call of the Atlantic Ocean led to a lifelong fascination with vikings and a degree in Medieval English and Old Norse Literature. Apart from Old Norse sagas, Tim's more recent writing heroes include Ben Kane, Giles Kristian, Bernard Cornwell, George RR Martin and Lee Child. After several years in New Hampshire, USA, Tim has returned to Northern Ireland, where he lives with his wife and children.
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