by D C Young
In the shadows of the building, she was a beautiful dark haired, fair skinned woman of about twenty eight or so, but when she emerged from the darkness, she changed. Just for a brief moment, I didn’t see a pretty face. Instead, there was the dark, decomposing face of a rotting ghoul; in a flash, she was beautiful again and walking right past me.
She smiled at me and lowered the hood of the coat she was wearing over her head. In a whisper, she said, “Skadegamutc!”
The sharp toot of the car horn startled me and I glared at Kingsley for making me jump. Ignoring him, I turned to take another look at the woman as she walked down the block, but she was gone and I was standing on the sidewalk all alone.
Now, that was weird! I thought to myself as I stepped towards Kingsley who was holding the car door open for me.
Chapter Four
866 A.D.
Björn always felt better traveling by water. There was a freedom to it that put land voyages to shame; portaging a boat over land to the next body of water was not his idea of a constructive use of time. Over land, it was also difficult to detect approaching enemies and ambushes. When he was on the open sea, he could watch his enemies approach from miles away. There was no road to stick to, no concern of falling off the side of a cliff if your horse became skittish, and no fear of an ambush right around the corner or from the hillside above. It was your ship against his ship, and the stronger Chieftain and the better constructed ship always won. Björn’s father, Ragnar had taught him that before he became a man at twelve, and it was a lesson he had learned well and put to practice hundreds of times.
As the ship made its way towards the Straits of Gibraltar, Björn reflected on the many raids he and his brother, Sigurd, had conducted in the area. Townsfolk had feared them, cursed them, and Björn believed that some even envied them. Looking back, Björn could not help but miss those days. True, they were fraught with danger and Death often helped steer the ship, but the goals were simple. Raid, kill, plunder, and either die courageously and enter Valhalla victoriously or return home to one’s family and kin to enrich their lives. Now, after hundreds of years as a werewolf, hiding in plain sight, judging who should die the final death, those days of Viking life had taken on a golden shine.
Björn knew what Marcus would say about his musings: ‘The past is dead, Ironside, you are a creature of today and the future now. Remember that.’ They had known each other for hundreds of years, and the old Roman was still trying to teach Björn lessons. A younger Viking would have tried to kill Marcus for talking to him like a child, but it would have been a foolish and deadly mistake. Björn himself had thought of taking the chance several times early in their relationship, but had always come to his senses before making a move. He knew Marcus was too strong for him and perhaps he always would be; even now as he lay encased in Spanish soil with Mary De Guise in the ship’s hull, the two-thousand-year-old vampire was still Björn’s superior.
Marcus, on the other hand, had never really worried much about Björn succumbing to his baser instinct; Ragnar’s son was a prince after all. It didn’t matter that he was a prince of one of history’s most savage people; he would have had all the right lessons from his father on how to rule well. He would have learned well how to make decisions for himself and his people that were for the greater good and ensured the best outcome for all who were affected.
Björn had taken plenty of risks before meeting Marcus, but they had been calculated risks. He and Sigurd had received an education from their father about navigating the seas west and south of Norway in addition to raiding the coastlines of Spain and France. When they moved on to Italy, Björn’s ambition became a little bigger than his ability.
“We should sack Rome!” Björn yelled to his brother as they sat on the deck of their ship. “The French were no challenge to us. No coastal village can stand against us! We need to strike a target that will make us legends!” Björn clapped Sigurd on the back as he finished, but his brother wasn’t so sure about the plan.
“Rome? What is there that we want?” Sigurd asked.
Björn said, “History! There is history there. The Moors tried to take the city, but they failed. Rome has been sacked countless times, but it has always survived. I say we end Rome! Turn it into ash so that it can never be rebuilt!”
Sigurd sat silently for a moment, going over the idea in his mind. He knew that once his brother got an idea in his head, he never usually let it go very easily. Finally, he looked up at Björn; the golden snake-like streak in his left eye glistened. “Fine! Let’s do it! Where do you want to make our entrance?”
Björn smiled, and his teeth shined in the darkness, “I know just the place.”
That place turned out to be Pisa, and as the Vikings sailed their ships toward the target, Björn laid out his plan. They would make their approach in the dead of night, so any eyes set to watch the coast would be clouded with sleep and impeded by darkness. Two ships would sneak into Marina de Pisa, set fire to every structure they came to, killing anyone who could raise the alarm. Björn and Sigurd would lead the rest of the ships up the Fiume Arno. The landing parties would continue to lay waste to anyone getting in their way, and when the ships reached Pisa, they would eventually rejoin the raiding party, to sack the city.
“The plan sounds well thought out,” Sigurd said, “but what will we do once we’ve captured Pisa? How far is Rome from there?”
Björn said, “We will keep one elder alive to guide us to Rome. We will leave the ship and a few men to guard it in Pisa and then make our way to our main target.”
Sigurd nodded, but he had his concerns. They had no map of the country, so they would have to rely on their captive, which was not always a reliable method.
On the night of their arrival to Pisa, fate was in their favor. Clouds covered the moon and stars, making the darkness more complete. As they approached Marina de Pisa, two ships glided across the water to their targets. The landing parties made quick work of the shore guards, and lit torches to signal the way was clear. As the ships entered Fiume Arno, members of the landing parties jumped on the horses of the shore guards and raced to the next outpost. The rowing teams on the ships kept them moving swiftly and quietly up the river. In no time at all, they all arrived in the center of Pisa. The ships had beaten the land parties, and there was no alarm being raised, so Björn decided to keep everyone on the ships for the moment.
“Men, we are here to conquer and take this city as our own,” Björn whispered to his fellow Vikings, “while you burn and pillage, I will go in search of someone to lead us to Rome.”
Just then, Björn heard the battle cries of the landing parties. He and his brother stood with the rest of the Vikings and answered the yells with their own. Almost at once, the city of Pisa awoke, with candles being lit and guards streaming out of buildings. The Vikings attacked every person they saw, hacking and stabbing with their swords. They left a trail of bodies in their wake, and kept looking for others to kill. Björn slashed his way through a group of soldiers that tried to bar his access to what appeared to be the city’s main building. He ran up a set of wooden stairs in the middle of the main building and came face to face with two more soldiers guarding a large door.
“Put down your swords, and I will give you a quick death!” Björn yelled. Neither man made a move to surrender, so Björn attacked. He ran his sword into the stomach of the man on the right, and punched the one on the left in the face. Björn then pulled out his dagger and stabbed the second man in the neck. They both fell to the ground, their lifeblood spilling out. The one Björn stabbed in the neck made a gurgling noise, as if begging for his life to be ended. “You had your chance. Now suffer,” Björn said as he walked by and kicked the door open.
“Stop, you filthy thief!” yelled the man in the room behind the door. Dressed in a night shirt, the man had the white hair and wrinkled skin of an old man. In his youth, he may have been of reasonable height, but age had shrunk his form. He held a sword in his right hand, but it
was obvious that he had little practice with it.
Björn laughed at the little man, “I am no thief. I am Björn Ironside, a Viking prince from Norway. You have one chance to stay alive. Can you direct me and my men to Rome?”
The old man said, “Why do you want to know? Is it not enough to burn the beautiful city of Pisa?”
“Pisa is nothing to me,” Björn said. He jumped forward, slamming his sword against the old man’s weapon. The impact caused the old man to drop his sword and wince with pain. “I want Rome, and I will have it. You can either help me and live, or refuse me and die. Your choice.”
The old man sank to his knees, and for a moment Björn thought he was doing the honorable thing and sacrificing his life. Then the old man started talking.
“Yes, curse me, I will lead you to Rome,” he said, “all I ask is that you spare the rest of Pisa.”
Björn said, “I will leave a force in Pisa, and they will be cautioned to leave the town as it is in the morning. What is your name, old man?”
“My name is Decimus, but I fear from this day forward I will be called ‘Coward’,” the old man said.
“Makes no difference to me, I will call you either. But I have a warning for you. If you lead me and my men astray, I will slide my blade into your bowels and let you die in agony. Is that understood, Decimus?” Björn asked.
Decimus nodded, “It is. May I get dressed before we leave?”
Björn waved his hand at the man, who despite his age got up quickly from his knees and dressed himself. Björn then walked Decimus out of the room and down the stairs, where Sigurd waited.
“Is this to be our new guide?” Sigurd asked.
Björn nodded, “It is. Meet Decimus, the coward. Decimus, this is my brother, Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye.”
Decimus nodded, and they all walked out of the building. Decimus gasped as he saw fires raging all over Pisa. Vikings were killing men, raping women and herding children into small groups near the city’s main building. Decimus could tell that by morning, there wouldn’t be a building standing by the time the sun rose.
“You have destroyed our city, Björn Ironside. Why?” Decimus asked as his eyes filled with tears.
Björn laughed, “Because I am a Viking. I conquer those who can be conquered. You will now assist me in conquering Rome. After that, who knows? We may take the entire country. Remake the Roman Empire in my image!”
An hour later, the majority of Björn’s men left Pisa in search of Rome. For the first day, they traveled south, hugging the coastline. As the sun fell, Björn ordered his men to make camp. After the fire was started, he walked Decimus to the edge and put his arm around the old man.
“When do you think we will reach Rome?” Björn asked in a calm voice.
Decimus answered, “If we start off at dawn and keep at the pace we are on now, we should make it by sunset tomorrow.”
Björn nodded, “Good.” He tightened his grip on Decimus’s neck and forced the old man’s upper half over the fire pit. Smoke filled his lungs, and the flames threatened to burn his skin. “If you are leading me in the wrong direction, I promise your death will be one of legendary pain. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes! I understand! Please don’t let me burn!” Decimus begged. Björn pulled him back from the edge and pushed him towards a nearby tree.
“Tie the coward up, so his legs don’t betray him and run off without him,” Björn said to the laughter of his men. The Vikings ate and drank, retelling their exploits from taking Pisa. Björn joined in the revelry, but part of his mind stayed on the coming raid of Rome. He had dreamed of taking the historic city for many years. He would soon be within striking distance, and he could almost taste the victory.
“What are you thinking, brother?” Sigurd asked.
Björn took a swallow from his cup, “I am thinking we all need to get some rest if we are going to burn Rome to the ground tomorrow.”
“Is that the best plan? Attacking when everyone will be awake? Rome is no small city like Pisa. It was the center of an empire that stretched across the world at one time.”
Björn snorted, “Yes brother, it was. At one time. Now? Now it is begging to be destroyed, and that is what we shall do. When we get there, you and I will decide on the best plan of action. But understand this, I do plan on destroying Rome, and it will be how I am remembered once I have gone on valkyrie wings to feast with Odin in Valhalla.”
Tied to a tree, Decimus heard all of Björn’s boasts and plans. He cried to himself, ashamed to be leading these murderous monsters to Rome.
I must do something, Decimus thought to himself, I can’t lead them to Rome. There must be something I can do.
It was the last thought he had until exhaustion forced him to pass out. When morning came, Sigurd woke Decimus with a slap to the face.
“Get up old man! Time to get back on the road to Rome,” Sigurd said and dragged Decimus to his feet. “Which way?”
Decimus looked at the sun and a plan formed in an instant, “We head south until the sun reaches its spot high in the sky, then we turn east.”
The Vikings made their way south, keeping an eye on the horizon for any signs of danger. When Decimus said it was time to turn east, they obeyed, but left a small totem behind so they would know where they turned. Three hours later, the scout in front of the main group returned with news of a large city surrounded by a wall that easily stood ten hands.
“Is that Rome, Decimus?” Björn asked, with menace in his voice and sword in hand.
“Yes, it is. I must have underestimated how fast Vikings move,” Decimus said. He could feel Björn’s eyes on him, trying to determine the truth.
“Then we are almost to our destiny, Vikings!” Björn yelled to his men, “We will proceed cautiously until we can see Rome for ourselves, and decide what happens next.”
When Björn’s army stood on a cliff within an arrow’s reach of the city, they all marveled at the size of the wall. Still, something bothered Björn. He turned to Decimus.
“Where is the Colosseum? Where is the Pantheon? The wall is impressive, but the rest of Rome doesn’t look like what I expected?”
Decimus, his hands tied in front of him stepped to the edge of the cliff, “That is because this is not Rome, Björn Ironside. This is Luni, the walled city. I have brought you here so I could die knowing that you are lost and will never find Rome!” Decimus then jumped off the cliff and fell fifty feet to his death. The Vikings looked on, at first amazed, and then in amusement.
“He was braver than we gave him credit for,” Sigurd said.
“Truly,” Björn answered as he looked at the man’s crumpled body, “but he is wrong about one thing. We are not lost.”
Sigurd turned to his brother, “We aren’t?”
“No, of course not,” Björn said, “We’re in Luni. He told us that himself.” All of the Vikings laughed at the joke. “And tonight, we will enter the walled city, burn it to the ground, and this time find a map to Rome!”
Entering Luni proved tougher than Björn and his Vikings expected. First, they tried an early morning attack on the main gate, but there were no weak points to exploit. The guards of Luni fought hard and bravely, and succeeded in keeping the Vikings out. Björn’s army sustained a few losses, but their resolve remained. In fact, they seemed more determined than ever to make it inside. Luni sent soldiers outside the gates to confront the Vikings. That plan backfired as the Vikings overran the soldiers and almost made it into the walled city.
On the second night, Björn sent Sigurd and some scouts to examine the wall, looking for any weak spot in the wall. As they were away, Björn sat by the fire, wondering to himself why his plan had gone so wrong. This city should not be so fortified. It was too small and too well guarded.
“You can’t get into Luni, because I have taught them too well,” a voice said to Björn’s left, surprising him. The Viking jumped to his feet, with his sword instantly in his right hand. Björn looked in the direction of the
voice, but saw nothing.
“Björn Ironside, you cannot hope to slice me with your sword. I am better in all forms of combat,” the voice said again, this time behind Björn. He whipped around, swinging his sword. It did not make contact, but this time Björn saw something move out of the way. It moved too fast to identify.
“Who are you? Stand and fight like a man!” Björn yelled. His men were now all on alert, trying to look in every direction at the same time. One Viking standing close to a group of trees suddenly vanished with a scream. Seconds later, his sword flew out of the darkness, planting itself in the chest of the Viking to Björn’s right. Björn watched the man drop to the ground, and then turned back to look in the direction of where the sword came from. There stood a man in heavy robes that disguised his form.
“For a generation, I was the guardian of Luni,” the man said in a voice that was obviously accustomed to giving orders, “they shun me now, but they remember the lessons I taught their grandfathers rather well.”
Björn ran towards the shrouded man with his sword arm raised. The figure did not move until the last moment, but when he did, it appeared he just vanished. Then almost as quick, he re-materialized, knocking Björn’s sword out of his hand. He grabbed the Viking by the neck and lifted him off of his feet.
“You are acting foolish, Viking,” the man said, “calm yourself and tell your men to settle down. I mean you no harm, but if you don‘t do as I say, I will end all of your lives.”
Björn’s eyes were bulging out of his skull and his lungs were burning, so he gave his men the signal to stand at ease. The man released his grip and Björn dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. His men ran to his side, but Björn shoved them away, telling them to leave him with the stranger.
“Good decision, Björn Ironside. Now, I believe you have some questions for me.”
Björn said, “Too true! What is your name, stranger? And what are you? No normal man could do what I have just seen!”
