by Griff Hosker
Carl shook his head, “It is a cold dead land, Cymru, and the women are too. I’d as soon have a sheep as one of their women!”
We laughed as Raibeart joined us. “Did you find much to plunder?”
He shook his head. “It is as you said, Dragon Heart, there are few settlements worth raiding. Perhaps I should copy Ragnar Hairy Breeches and try further north.”
“Perhaps but I think this Saxon king may be looking in this direction more than he was. There is a monastery on a small isle not far from the fort. You could try that.”
“Aye I will. I best go and tell the men what we are about. We may get to use our weapons yet.”
“And I will go and rig a new sail for you, my lord, your crew are too tired tonight.”
“Thank you Alf.”
Raibeart poured me some ale which I gratefully drank. I told him of the attack and he gave me a knowing look. “I told you Eardgarth does not put himself in danger.”
I leaned forward. “I have something to show you. Something we found at the mine of the blue stone.” I waved Aiden forward. Alf and Carl were also intrigued and they gathered around. “I found this in a lake deep beneath the blue stone mine.”
I unwrapped the cloak to reveal the blade and Raibeart gasped when he recognised it, “It is the sword of the Warlord.” He looked at me with tear filled eyes. “Now I know that you were meant to return here. You are the heir of Rheged.”
My two captains stared at the weapon and ran their fingers over the hilt. There were no warrior bands and the blade was a little narrower than my sword but it was magnificent. Aiden and Snorri had cleaned it up as best they could. Bjorn would make it right again.
“There was something else. At the fort we found a painting on the wall. It showed the Warlord but there was also a man who looked like him leading horsemen.”
“That would be his son, Hogan, he became Warlord after Lord Lann.”
“And in the painting there was a priest of the White Christ and another man, not a warrior. Were my ancestors Christians?”
“No, but they used the priests to help them with the machines and to read Latin for them. I have forgotten their names now but they were loyal to Lord Lann.”
“And the other man?”
He paused, “If he was with Hogan, Lord Lann and the priest then it would be Myrddyn, the wizard.”
It was true then. I had seen the face of the body in the tomb. “How did the sword disappear?”
“That was after Warlord Hogan died. I say died but he just disappeared. There had been some treachery and a family feud. It was a dark time. When he disappeared the sword did too. His son became warlord and was a mighty warrior himself but many people said that we had no luck once the sword vanished.”
Here was a puzzle. Was the dead warrior we found Lord Lann’s son? If so why had he thrown it into the earth? I had answered some of my questions but raised more. I realised that I was so tired that I was not thinking straight.
“I will sleep now but wake me the moment the storm abates. I want to get home to my wife and my son.” The stories of Lord Lann and his son had made we want to keep Arturus as close to me as possible.
The storm still raged in the morning although it had abated somewhat. We spent the morning cleaning weapons and armour. We were returning with glory and I wished my people to see us in our finery. Having waited for the rain and the winds to stop there was now little point in hurrying.
And then, in the afternoon, the rain stopped and a shaft of sunlight lit the harbour. “The gods smile upon us. Let us get aboard our ships.” As my men went to prepare I stood, on the harbour side with Raibeart. “I know that you are still in the early days of building up your defences but if your people in the south of the island could watch for danger on the mainland I would appreciate it.”
He shook his head, “I am afraid there are still pockets of Saxons in the south of the island. When you and Jarl Erik scoured the land you did it from the middle towards the north. We will be spending the summer winkling out the Saxons who remain in the rest of the island.”
“Of course. Then when I have visited my home I may return for we have some gold to recover.”
We left the harbour well before sunset. It would take some time to reach our home if the winds were still against us and we sailed with ‘Serpent’ and she was slower than we were. But we were returning home and that gave us all heart.
With the wind blowing from the north east we crabbed our way across the sea to Man. We could reach it with a favourable wind in a few hours but the storm had taken it out of my warriors. I did not think we would reach home before dawn. The skies had cleared and the air was fresher. The stars guided us as though the gods themselves wished us a safe voyage.
When the first sliver of light touched the eastern sky we saw the dark shape on the horizon that was Man. It seemed to take forever for us to close with it. When we drew closer we could see Olafston. The white stone of the tower stood out. Aiden was on the mast and he shouted, “There are no ships in the harbour.”
I had wondered about visiting Rolf but if ‘Bear’ was not there then he must have gone visiting. I knew he would not raid whilst I was away and I wondered if he was doing as I had asked and visited Erika. I edged us further east and that slowed us even more for the wind was against us. I ordered the sail lowered. I watched as, behind us ‘Serpent’ did the same. We would be even slower now for our consort had fewer oars than we did and was slower anyway. I sailed north for some time. We could then use the wind to head directly for Duboglassio. I would visit my stepfather first. I was anxious to show him my finds. I was excited by what his reaction would be. I was distracted, I think, and forgot to lower the sail. It was either that or the Norns toying with me again. Whatever the reason Aiden shouted down, “Drekar in the harbour.” There was a pause, “They are not ours.”
Every face on the benches was turned to me. It might be visitors but the odds were it meant danger. My dream came back to me. “What else can you see?”
“Smoke, my lord, the town is afire.”
I had a decision to make. Did I go sailing in to face two drekar or did I take us to the small bay north of Duboglassio and enter unseen? I had too few men to risk sailing in: we would be seen before we landed and we would have to fight our way into the town. We would sail north. For good or ill I had made up my mind.
As they rowed I told my men what I intended. “We will sail north until we are close to the garlic river. Then we sail east and land. There may be some ill afoot. We are not going in blindly. I was gratified that Haaken and Cnut nodded their agreement. I had but twelve Ulfheonar and six others. It was not enough. Alf had another twelve but they were not warriors; they were sailors. We would have to make do with what we had. The smoke was now tantalisingly beyond the headland. They could not see us but nor could we see them. My men needed no urging from me. These were dragon ships. They were warriors like us. We needed to get ashore as soon as was humanly possible. I left it until the last moment to give the order to raise oars. We slid on to the shingle and sand beach. Erik Short Toe leapt ashore with the rope and tied us to a large rock. We had used it before.
“Beorn, Ragnar and Snorri, go and scout.”
My three best trackers sprinted to the ridge which led to Duboglassio. Alf did not come ashore, his peg leg made that difficult. I shouted to him. “Use your men to guard both boats. I will take my boys with me. They can run back if we need assistance.”
“I will turn both boats around!” He was a clever sailor; he knew what I should have known that we might have to leave in a hurry if we were outnumbered and the odds were that we would be.
I hated leaving my newly found sword alone but Prince Butar was more precious than any sword, no matter how old.
We were only a mile or so from the edge of the town and we ran quickly across the scrubby ridge. Snorri waved us down. “My lord, Beorn recognises the ship. It is the ‘Sif’.”
Chapter 21
‘Sif’ wa
s the boat of Harald One Eye; I had served aboard her when I was no bigger than Arturus. Jarl Harald One Eye was Prince Butar’s cousin and he hated us both. The dream had been a warning and I had ignored it. I would have to deal with that decision for the rest of my life.
“Where is Beorn?”
“He went to the town and Ragnar went to the harbour.”
“Good we will make our way down.” We all had drawn weapons. Erik Short Toe, Aiden and Carl had all taken shields and swords from the store on the boat. They each wore a leather helmet. I hoped they would not be needed to fight. These were veteran warriors we would be coming up against.
The one weakness of Duboglassio was that the hills overlooked the walls. It suited us now. While we waited for our scouts, we hid amongst the gorse and bramble bushes, watching what was going on within the walls. I could see that there were bodies littering the town. It was hard to see whose dead they were. The men of Harald One Eye were enjoying the women and the girls of the town. I hoped my step sister had had a quick death and was not amongst those who were now suffering the attention of drink crazed raiders. Beorn came back first.
“It is Gorm the Grim.” He was Harald’s right hand man and an evil, sadistic killer. He had achieved his name by his lack of any sort of smile. He was cruel and ruthless; my heart sank. There would have been no mercy from such a man.
“Any sign of Harald One Eye?”
“No. There are about twenty warriors left in the town. I saw signs that a large body of men had headed out of the village.”
That was the first good news I had heard. It meant they only outnumbered us by a couple. Then the realisation set in; he would be heading for Hrams-a! Before I could order us forward Ragnar found us. “They have Prince Butar. He is suffering the death of the sea.”
Haaken and Cnut began to rise. The death of the sea was a cruel death. A warrior had his arms and legs slashed and then he was staked so that the tide would gradually cover him. He would have his head above water but his blood would be slowly seeping into the sea. It attracted sea creatures which would eat the warrior alive. I had heard of young warriors lasting for days. Prince Butar would be lucky to last until noon. “Wait.” I did not want my men rushing off. “How many men are with him?”
“There are four guards watching him die. They are drinking.”
I turned to the ones who were not Ulfheonar, “Lasse, take the boys and your men. Kill the guards and rescue Prince Butar.” I pointed to Aiden, “He is a healer, of sorts, and he will care for the prince.”
Lasse nodded and they loped off. I hoped I was not putting too much on Aiden’s shoulders. He had shown skill in dealing with my warrior’s minor wounds. How would he cope with someone close to death? I had to concentrate on saving the women in the town; it is what he would wish and what my wife would want too. Even as I led my men towards Gorm the Grim I worried about Erika. I had no doubt that Harald One-Eye would have found out where I lived and would be heading there. He had dealt with one enemy and I would be the next.
The rear gate of the town was open and we headed for it. If Harald had gone overland they would not be expecting trouble from that direction. Just before we entered I said, “I want at least one prisoner taken alive to tell us of Harald’s plans but take no chances. We will be outnumbered and they are experienced warriors.”
Haaken shook his head, “But they are not Ulfheonar!”
We slipped into the town and split up. I had Olaf and Harald with me. They would be all that I would need. We heard screams coming from a house to our left. The door was ajar. I needed no look to know what I would find. The warriors would be raping the women. The young girls would be lucky to survive. As for the boys…
I was the first in and I saw a girl of no more than twelve summers sobbing in the corner. A woman, probably her mother was being held down by two warriors while a third thrust himself between her legs. I took in that a boy, a man and a dog lay dead in the entrance.
Even as I slashed at the back of the warrior who was astride the woman, a fourth warrior suddenly thrust at me from the side of the door. The blade slid along the links of my armour. Olaf smashed his sword into the warrior’s face and the top half of his head disappeared in an eruption of blood and bone. The movement meant that my sword just sliced through the body of the rapist from the shoulder down. He screamed and rolled off. The two men who had been holding her leapt to their feet. Olaf and Harald showed no mercy as they fell upon them. The warrior I had struck tried to roll away, clutching at the bloody shoulder.
“Where is Harald One Eye?”
The warrior coughed up some blood and with his last breath said, “Riding your wife!” His body lay still with his life blood seeping across the floor.
I wished I could comfort the woman and her daughter but I knew I had others to save first.
As we left the hut I could hear the sounds of battle. They knew we were here. We ran towards the sound of the fighting. Gorm the Grim was a seasoned warrior and his men were fighting their way back to their boat. I could see that they had left some of their men dead. We had the slight advantage that they had been drunk and easily surprised. They would be sobering up rapidly. It would become harder to kill them now.
As I ran towards them I saw Carl the Scar bravely race forward to try to strike Gorm the Grim before he could escape to his ship. Carl’s sword smashed down on the shield of the jarl and caught on the metal studs. Gorm pulled his arm to the side and as Carl lost balance Gorm’s axe split his head open. My men were dying and I was just watching.
I shouted as I approached, “Gorm, you treacherous snake. I can see that all you are good for these days is raping girls and little boys. Come and face a warrior.”
He snarled, “You are no warrior! You are Ragnar’s little pup and anyone trained by that senile cripple will not be worth the effort of killing.”
I knew that he was trying to antagonise me but it did not work. I just became colder. We were now in a line with me on the left. I strode forward. I did not recognise the three warriors who faced me but it mattered not. I swung my sword overhand and the warrior caught it on his shield. I did not wait for his blow. I smashed my shield into his face and as he was forced back I punched with the hilt of my sword. The cross piece of Ragnar’s Spirit entered his eye. I was vaguely aware as he screamed in pain that Olaf and Harald were by my side, the warriors they faced were falling back as my two giants laid into them. I punched again with my shield and this time the half blinded warrior fell to the ground. I was aware of my own orders and so I stabbed him in the right shoulder. He would fight no more and he would be alive to answer my questions.
We needed to finish this now so that I could get to Prince Butar and then find Harald One Eye. Sven Gormson, Gorm the Grim’s son suddenly launched himself at me from my right. I barely had time to deflect the blow with my blade but the strength of Bjorn’s blade and the touch of the gods gave me added power. I saw the look of surprise on his face as my sword held. I had played with Sven as a child and now I would fight with him to the death. Old loyalties were now forgotten.
“So son of Grim, you thought to attack me when I was fighting another.” I feinted with my sword and punched with my shield. His nose broke and I saw blood splatter.
As he spat out blood and teeth he snarled, “You are not of our people. You are a half caste Saxon bastard. Jarl Harald should have drowned you.”
I laughed, “I am Jarl Garth Dragon Heart! I am Ragnar’s wolf warrior. I am descended from the Warlord of Rheged and I bear the blade touched by the gods. You are nothing!” I swung the sword overhand and it cracked and sliced through the helmet and split his surprised head open.
I heard Gorm roar and he swung his axe at me. Once again it was one of my bodyguards who saved me. Olaf’s shield came from nowhere to take the blow. The warrior behind Gorm took advantage and his blade slid into the fleshy part of Olaf’s leg. Harald swung his sword and embedded it into the neck of the warrior.
I hefted my shield a
round to face Gorm. He was a big man and although he was old enough to be my father I would not underestimate him. He had much experience. He swung the axe easily. It was a skeggox and was a deadly weapon when used by someone who knew what they were doing. I had seen Gorm fight; he knew his business. I would have to use speed; the speed of my feet, the speed of my hands and the speed of my deadly blade. I feinted with my shield and he reacted quickly. He stepped away from the blow and I swung Ragnar’s Spirit at his head. He quickly pulled the shield up and my blade bounced off the leather and metal surface.
I braced myself for the blow from the axe. I angled my shield away from my body and punched as the blow struck. It meant the blade slid down my shield and he opened his body. My sword darted in like quicksilver and took him by surprise. It was fortunate he had good armour or the contest would have ended there and then. As it was the sharp tip pierced the mail and the flesh beneath just enough to draw blood. He recoiled. It was not the pain or the wound but the speed of the blow.
The numbers ahead of us had been whittled down and they were desperate to get aboard one of their ships. It made them careless. Careless warriors die. I let Haaken and Cnut worry about the rest and I concentrated on Gorm.
“I am no longer the slave. I am now a jarl.”
“If you are a jarl then I can be king.”
“Aye king of the dead for your men are now dying for you and that viper, One Eye!”
He laughed, “Well your Butar is already feeding the fishes.”
“Prince Butar!”
He laughed again, “I can see that this little island has given you all ideas above your station. I will end that now.”
He spun around so that his axe came at me not on my shield side but the side with my sword. I had seen the move before and, as he spun around I dropped to one knee and stabbed upwards. The axe flew over my head and Ragnar’s Spirit entered the groin of Gorm the Grim. As I pushed upwards into his bowels I twisted. He would pay for the rapine behaviour of his men. I pulled the blade back a little, turned it and then thrust it in again. Prince Butar would have some vengeance. I ripped my sword out and his entrails followed. He stared down as they spilled on the floor. He looked at the writhing white worms in the sea of blood and, as the life passed from his eyes I saw a question, how had a slave become such a warrior?
