by Griff Hosker
Viking Jarl
Book 3 in the
Dragon Heart Series
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd 2014
Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Chapter 1
By their clothing, their gold armlets
You see they are the king’s friends.
They bear wolf cloaks, stained shields,
Silver-clad swords, ringed mailcoats,
Gilded sword-belts, engraved helmets,
Rings on their arms as Jarl Garth gave them
I reached the top of Snaefell just after dawn. It is the large mountain which dominates our island home of Man. From its rounded peak you can see the whole of the island and beyond. We do not have a name for our people but most of us came from the icy lands of the Norse in far away Norway. I was the exception for my family was part Welsh and part Saxon. Snaefell had become something of a symbol to us. From its soft peak we could see the whole world from the land of Northumbria to Hibernia; from Strathclyde to Cymru. This was also a sacred day to us. Midsummer’s day was the longest day of the year and, later, we would be celebrating the marriages of the young warriors and their chosen ones. The two occasions when many people married were at Midsummer and at Yule. I had met my wife on this most holy of days. I had left my hall in the middle of the night to climb this mountain. Later, I would rejoin my people in Hrams-a but I needed to do something important first. I needed to do it alone.
I had discovered much about myself over this last year. When we had raided the Saxons I had found the crowns of Rheged which in turn led me to find out that my mother had been a child of the Warlord of Rheged. I only knew a few things about my ancestor but they were important for they were a bond and tied us over time. My wolf amulet was linked to the warlord and the royal house of Rheged. That was important. I was not a slave and I had a past. When I discovered that I felt I needed to reach the highest place on our island, alone. I had no idea why and no expectation of what might occur. A voice inside me had told me to do this. I did hear voices; sometimes they were Ragnar, my adopted grandfather, sometimes my mother and, at other times a voice I did not recognise. I was alone but I wore no armour. However I carried Ragnar’s Spirit, my god touched sword forged from the finest Frankish iron and struck by lightning. I knew I would need that for whatever might happen on the top of Snaefell.
The path twisted and turned as it climbed around the mountain. It was a sheep trail really but sheep always knew the easiest way to get somewhere and I followed their sign. Huge rocks littered the side as though the gods themselves had played here. It had been from this mountain top that my sword had been struck by lightning so perhaps it was a place that Odin and Thor used.
I had counted my steps up the mountain and, as I neared a thousand, I played a game with myself. As I stepped on to the pile of stones which marked the peak I said one thousand. It was childish but it was also significant. A thousand was a round number and seemed right. I nodded to myself as I stood atop the highest point on the island. I ate the food I had brought and drank from my skin as I waited for the dawn. It rose in the east which was both the land of my birth and the land of our enemies; the Saxons. My father had been a Saxon but he had enslaved my mother and treated me badly. I had neither love nor affection for him. The Saxon children who had grown up with me had also treated me cruelly. I had had no love for them either. The final act, which made me hate them, was when Tadgh, one of the Saxons I had grown up with kidnapped my wife and child and took them to the land of the Irish. He also burned my mother alive and for that he had had no forgiveness. Tadgh had paid for that with his life but I still had a deep seated hatred of all things Saxon.
I lay back on the green sward which lay below the peak and touched the wolf amulet. I was a wolf warrior; some men called us shape shifters. We were not. We used the skills of the wolf and we were fierce warriors but we could not actually change into a wolf. We could blend into any terrain and when we fought we were as ferocious as the wolf. I took out the wolf stone. Touching the blue stone in the wolf’s eye always made me see my mother and I wanted to speak with her this day. Now I also knew that it brought me closer to her father and that seemed important too.
I felt the warmth of the sun begin to touch my face and I slowly opened my eyes. I put the wolf stone back in my tunic and stood. I drew my blade, Ragnar’s Spirit. Normally when I did that I had no time to admire the magnificent sword for I would be fighting but this morning I did. The runes and the intricate carvings on the blade seemed to sparkle in the early morning sun. The hilt reflected back a rainbow of colours from my warrior bands. It was a magnificent sword and yet it was not complete. I could not put my finger on what was missing. I gripped the sword and looked behind me to the west. There the sun was just touching the land of the Irish. I had no love for them either. They were a treacherous people. At one time I had thought to conquer their land but it was too poor and not worth the trouble.
I turned and looked to the north and the east. This was the land of the Saxons. They called it Northumbria and, since they had become followers of the White Christ, they had become weaker warriors. At the same time they had become richer because their churches were filled with gold and precious metals. That was a land worth conquering. Already it had made me and my wolf warriors the richest men on the island. Warriors came from all over the westerns isles to seek their fortune on one of my drekar.
Finally I turned to the south east. There lay the island we called Anglesey but which its own people called Mona. The Welsh no longer ruled there. The Saxons had conquered them and driven out their warriors. Anglesey nestled beneath the huge mountain they called Wyddfa. It had been part of the land my mother’s people had protected. I stared at the island as dawn’s light crept over the mountain and gradually lit up the Holy Island that was Anglesey. It seemed to me that it was like a piece of gold and it shimmered in an emerald sea. As I watched the emerald turned to a blue. I heard a hum in my head which was what my mother had done to send me to sleep as a child. I had a moment of clarity; the blue was the same hue as my wolf stone. It was a sign. My sword would be completed by a blue stone and gold. I would journey to the land of the Welsh and find my heritage. Perhaps I was looking for that answer. It mattered not. I now had a purpose again.
Striding down the mountain with the rising sun warming my back I turned my thoughts to my warriors. I needed to reward them for their loyalty. I was rich now. The holy books and relics we had taken from the Saxon churches of the White Christ had been sold in Frankia and I had been handsomely rewarded. I would put my mind to a suitable gift. I was now Jarl Garth the Dragon Heart and a jarl owed it to his followers to thank them for their loyalty. Our prince, my step father, Prince Butar, gave us gifts and I would do the same to the men who followed me.
My village was coming to life as I passed my fort which protected the hill. The sentries saluted me with their spears as I passed. The boys taking the sheep, cattle and goats up on to the hills all bowed and shouted, ‘Dragon heart’. I knew that they all aspired to be warriors like me. Many me in my village worked at other things but all of them could fight. War and battle was
in our blood. As I passed Bjorn the blacksmith I noticed that he now had four assistants. Since the edict forbidding the sale of Frankish blades to Vikings we had had to make our own. The word had been spread that the Norse of Man would reward smiths who came to work. Bjorn had always finished off the Frankish blanks but he had had to learn how to forge those. He had managed it but even he admitted that the Frankish iron was stronger. We had to use the iron we captured and some of the quality was not the best. As it was still early I decided to call in and speak with my blacksmith.
He gave a bow as did his assistants, all toiling away at the forge. “Morning Jarl. You are up early.”
“Aye. I have much on my mind.” The walk down the mountain had clarified my thinking and I now had a better idea of what I desired. I pointed to the sword which was in the fire. “How go the swords?”
“They are getting better but, until we can get better iron then they will not be Frankish blades.”
“You can now cast better blades than hitherto?”
“Aye my lord.” He pointed to a stocky man who had recently arrived from our homeland in the east. “Ragnar here has made them before and he gave us a few good ideas.”
I smiled. Ragnar again. Prince Butar’s father had trained me well and I believed he still watched over me. “Good.” I turned to Bjorn, “Where is the best iron?”
He laughed, “In the ground! If you can get it freshly mined then you can rid it of all impurities.”
“There is none here then?”
He shook his head. “Close to where you lived on the east coast of the land of the Angles there are mines and I have heard that there are some in Cymru….”
The plan was already growing in my mind. I could see the spirits were guiding me that way. “Now there are two more matters on which I would consult with you.” He put down the sword he was working on and led me away from the fierce fire.
“Let us take the air. It is too hot and noisy to think in there.” Once outside the air was fresher and it was the sound of the sea which we heard. “Now then…”
“My wolf cloak is in need of repair.” I saw his face which showed confusion.” I know you are not a furrier but I wish a new helmet. I would like eye pieces with some intricate inlaid silver to make the eyes stand out. Have you any way to make iron red?”
“No, Jarl Garth.”
“A pity. I will have to think on that. Then I would like mail attaching around the sides and under the chin. It should be black mail like my armour and finally I would like some way to attach the wolf cloak to it.” I smiled, “You would need to strengthen the wolf cloak’s collar.”
He nodded as comprehension came to him. “You wish to look like a wolf?” I nodded. “And the red would be for the red eyes?” Again I nodded. “Then why not do as the maidens do and put the red cochineal from crushed beetles on your eyes. If there is silver around the eyes it will make them stand out. You will look like the wolf.”
“That is a good idea. You can make for me a new helmet then?”
“Yes my lord,” he hesitated, “but it will not be cheap.”
“And I would not want it cheaply made my friend. I will pay. Whatever it costs it will be worth it.”
“Good. Then it will be ready in a month.”
I was slightly disappointed. I had hoped for it sooner. I was like a child waiting for a promised present. “Now my other task is a private one and I wish it to be secret. I do not mind others knowing about the helmet.”
He laughed, “Good for I intended to tell all about it. I can see this being a good source of gold for me when others see you wearing it.”
“And it is for others that I wish something made. I need a gold arm ring making for each of my Ulfheonar. There are fourteen who remain.”
His face clouded. “That is more difficult my lord. “ He held up his massive hands. “I am made for hammering larger things and I work in iron.” My face must have fallen for he suddenly said, “But there is one who might be able to do as you wish.” He pointed to an old, grey haired smith working with Aiden, the Irish boy I had adopted. Their forge was at the front of the open building. “Torin, there, came from the islands to the north with Ragnar. He can make fine golden objects or so I am told. We have little call for that here but Aiden has shown great skill and his hands are small enough to work on such a delicate piece as you require.”
“He has the skills?”
Bjorn nodded. “Believe me he is a quick learner and he has a clever mind. He can draw too. He has helped us to make some iron objects for the women to use in their kitchens. Between the two of them they could do that. However it would need much gold.”
I smiled. Gold was not a problem. “I have enough and I will bring it tomorrow.” I looked at Aiden. His coming had also all the signs of intervention from another world. His father had been executed by the High King of Ireland and he had not wished to return to his mother. He had been the most loyal of boys since he had come to us. “I wonder if he could do something with this.”
I took out my sword and Bjorn, whose father had made the blade for me asked, “Is there a fault with it my lord?”
“No, but the hilt is plain and I would have a blue stone set as the pommel.”
“You have such a stone?”
“No, but I will get one and it will then match this.” I took out my wolf amulet and he nodded his understanding. “It came to me on the mountain.”
“He could do that my lord and perhaps the scabbard too.”
I looked at the scabbard and knew what he meant. The scabbard was plain compared with the blade it protected. “Aye, I need to find the time to make a better one and make it worthy of such a sword.”
“Yes, my lord,” Bjorn smiled, “You are now Jarl Garth and you should look like the most powerful warrior in the land.”
“Let us speak with them.”
“I will bring them over.” We were alone close to the beach and would not be overheard.
When they came the old man looked to be nervous and worried. I smiled at him, “You must be Torin. I thank you for bringing your skills to my people.”
I saw him relax, “Thank you, jarl. My family like it here.”
“And you, young Aiden, I hear from Bjorn Bagsecgson that you are a clever smith.” Aiden’s face lit up like the fine morning it was. He had no guile and pretence. “Do you see this as your future?”
His face frowned a little and I saw him wrestling with the truth and pleasing Bjorn. Truth won out. “I would still like to be a warrior, jarl.”
“And the two do not exclude each other. Bjorn’s father was a mighty warrior.” I saw that Bjorn was pleased with my praise. “You can be both.” I leaned in, “I think that working the forge will make you stronger and a better warrior so fear not that your size stops you.” Aiden was much smaller than similar boys his age. He was not Norse.
“Thank you, jarl.”
“Now I have a task for the two of you but it will remain our secret. Do I have your word?” They both nodded and grasped their iron daggers. It was a smith’s oath. “Good. Then when I have given the gold to Bjorn I wish you to make me fourteen identical arm rings for my warriors. I want them to look like wolves. Do not skimp on the gold. I also have a fancy,” I looked at the two of them, “but it depends upon your skills.” I left the unspoken question hanging in the air. “That fancy is to have a wolf’s head on the arm ring.”
Torin frowned. Aiden looked at the sea and then knelt down in the sand. He smoothed a patch and then took out his dagger. He drew a shape in the sand. I saw his tongue darting from the side of his mouth as he concentrated. When he had finished he stood up. “You mean like that my lord?”
I looked at the sand sketch; it was perfect. “If you could do that then I will pay you well.”
Aiden shook his head, “I would gladly do it for nothing my lord.”
I saw the slight frown on Torin’s face and laughed, “No Aiden, a craftsman is worthy of his pay. You will both be rewarded well.” The
relief on Torin’s face almost made me laugh again. “Good. I will bring the gold later on and the other matter can wait until I have the stone.”
I had to smile as I saw the young Aiden animatedly telling Torin how he would fashion my arm rings. By the time I reached my hall my family were all up. Arturus was playing with his wooden sword; soon he would have a real one. My wife, Erika was with my daughter, Kara, finishing their first meal. In Kara’s case it would be the first of many. My wife looked up expectantly as I entered. I had married well. Erika knew my thoughts and knew I had been troubled.
“Well?”
“I have made some decisions.”
Erika waved at Maewe and Seara to enter. They were no longer slaves but they both worked with my wife as though they were. I suppose the main difference in their lives was that they could leave at any time and they were paid. They brought in my food and then Seara took Kara away. Seara had been a badly treated slave of the Hibernians and she could not have children of her own. Kara and Arturus were as close as she would get to motherhood. It was a happy arrangement. We were left alone and Erika moved her seat closer to me.
As I ate I told her of my thoughts. She was a thoughtful woman and not given to histrionics. “You would go raiding again?”
“It has made us wealthy.”
“Do we not have enough?”
“For us? Yes for we are careful. For our people? No.”
She smiled. “I was just making sure that you were doing it for the right reason. You do not need to go raiding to make me richer. I am rich enough with the children and you.”
I teased her, “Good, so I will not need to bring any more lace from Frankia?”
She wagged an admonishing finger at me. “Of course you need to bring me presents.” She stood and went to a small earthenware jar. We now had potters and were able to produce the necessities we had had to trade for before. “Here is some ground up beetles. I used it on my lips.” She laughed. “I no longer need to attract a man. Use this on your eyes. I think the effect will be frightening.”
