The Midgard Serpent

by James L. Nelson

  That was where Felix thought there might be some difficulty.

  He had hinted at his concerns as forcefully as he dared, but Æthelwulf had dismissed him, and Felix had only so much influence. All he could do now was to see things as organized as possible, ensure that Æthelwulf’s people did not steal too much from him, and fend off the nobles looking for favors from their king while he could still grant them, since they did not think he would be king for very much longer.

  All this Felix would report to his real master, King Charles of West Frankia, when Charles was playing host to Æthelwulf and his party in a month’s time.

  A little ways beyond where the men-at-arms were gathered, another group of men stood in close conversation, their colorful tunics and capes and bright points of silver giving them a festive look, though Felix doubted there was anything festive about their discussions. Among them was Nothwulf, ealdorman of Dorsetshire, who had achieved some notoriety recently by defeating a band of Northmen who taken the monastery at Christchurch.

  Felix shifted his eyes a bit. Thirty feet from where Nothwulf stood in conference there was a fellow named Leofric, engaged in his own discussion with fellow thegns. They were all wealthy men, but Leofric was wealthiest of all. He and Nothwulf had been close, but something had happened, some falling out. Felix did not know what it was, and seemed unable to discover the truth, but whatever it was it was causing considerable friction in the neighboring shire.

  Yet another gaggle of men stood beyond Leofric’s group, these men of Kent, thegns and nobility. Sitting on a bench nearby was a young boy, seven years old. His clothes were as fine as any of the nobles, his expression was one of complete boredom as he made slow work of eating an apple. He looked up and met Felix’s eyes and for a moment they looked at one another. Then Felix gave the tiniest flick of his head to beckon the boy over. Slowly, with apparent reluctance, the boy stood and shuffled over in Felix’s direction.

  Alfred, youngest son of Æthelwulf’s surviving four, small and not terribly robust, with big, brown eyes that hinted at the boy’s depth. He would be accompanying his father to Rome, but it would not be Alfred’s first time there. He had been sent the year before as part of a retinue intended to pave the way for Æthelwulf’s pilgrimage.

  Felix was actually surprised the boy had survived the rigors of the journey, but was pleased that he had. Felix liked Alfred very much. He hoped he would survive the second trip. Alfred was certainly the brightest of Æthelwulf’s sons, and even if there was almost no chance of him ever assuming the throne, Felix felt certain that the kingdom of Wessex was better off having him there.

  “Alfred, how do you fare?” Felix asked.

  “Well enough, sir,” Alfred said. His voice was soft, his tone always polite.

  “And what do you hear?”

  “Lord Forthhere wants my father to grant him the hundred that abuts his land in Cisseceaster, but Godhold wishes it as well. The thegns are divided on this, but it seems to me that Godhold has the majority of support.”

  Felix nodded. These men of Kent could be a supreme annoyance. But they would soon be the problem of Æthelberht, Æthelwulf’s second son, who had been set as king of Kent until Æthelwulf’s return. Æthelberht favored Forthhere, Felix knew, so it was no wonder that Godhold was trying to secure the grant before Æthelwulf departed.

  “What do you think?” Felix asked.

  “I think my father favors Godhold, which is why Godhold hopes to get the grant now. Before we leave.”

  Smart boy… Felix thought. Alfred was a good ally. No one concerned themselves with what they said in his presence: in their eyes he was only a shy, possibly stupid boy. The fourth son, one of no consequence. So he heard a great deal, and most of what he heard he understood. And passed along to Felix.

  “I think this will be your brother’s problem,” Felix said, “because I do not think your father will care to involve himself in this just now.”

  “Particularly if you don’t tell him about it,” Alfred said with a shy smile.

  “Indeed,” Felix said. He was about to ask the boy what else he had heard when the thought was interrupted by someone heading his way, a messenger by the look of his mud-splattered leggings and rumpled tunic. A messenger who had ridden hard, as gauged by his red and sweating face, his wet hair, his open-mouthed look of exhaustion. Felix felt an ugly foreboding. Messengers did not generally ride hard when they brought good news.

  “Sir,” he said, bowing as he came to a stop just a few feet away. Anyone who had business with the court, whether it was delivering messages or begging an audience with the king, knew that Felix was the man to approach first.

  “Yes?” Felix asked.

  “I come from Portesmutha,” the messenger said. “Hunwald, the shire reeve, sends me. He bids me tell you that the Northmen have arrived there.”

  “Arrived?” Felix asked. “Have they plundered the place? The abbey?”

  “No,” the messenger said. “They’re…they’ve killed a whale, lord, and they’re eating it. On the beach.”

  Felix felt his brows come together. “A whale…” He thought about that oddity for a moment, then asked, “How many?”

  “Just the one whale, lord,” the messenger said.

  “No, how many Northmen?” Felix snapped.

  “Oh…shire reeve says eleven ships, lord.”

  Eleven ships… That could be as many as five or six hundred men. Not a number that could be ignored.

  Felix looked down at young Alfred. “What think you, Prince Alfred?” he asked.

  “I think my father’s plans are suddenly much altered,” Alfred said.

  Felix nodded. “Indeed they are.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Daughter of my father,

  there you grinded hard,

  but you saw crowds

  of giants fall.

  The Poetic Edda

  Odd heard Amundi, to his immediate right, make a low, grunting sound as the implications of Halfdan’s words came to him.

  He heard Thorgeir ask in a soft voice, “That’s…Odd’s sister?”

  “Yes. Hallbera,” Amundi said.

  There was quiet for a moment, then Thorgeir said, “I thought Hallbera was his daughter.”

  “Hallbera Oddsdottir. This is Hallbera Thorgrimsdottir. Odd’s sister. They were both named after Odd’s mother, who was much loved. She died giving birth to this one.”

  Odd heard the words but they passed through him like water through a net. His whole attention was focused on his sister, his beloved sister, sitting awkwardly on Onund Jonsson’s saddle. She had been off with Signy’s parents, far from Odd’s farm, and he had thought her safe. In truth, he had not really thought about her at all, with all the other concerns he had.

  But Halfdan, apparently, had thought about her. And found her. And now she sat fifty feet away with Onund’s arm around her waist, looking up at him, eyes wide, face smudged with dirt. Fear radiated off her like heat. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she were silently imploring him to save her.

  Odd wondered how Halfdan had found her. Anyone who was likely to have known where she was had left the farm and sailed off with Odd and the others.

  “Now, Odd Thorgrimson,” Halfdan said. “Now I think it’s time for us to talk. And you, Amundi, you should be part of this as well.”

  Odd’s mind was tumbling and spinning like a drunkard trying to keep his feet. He wanted to speak but no words would come. Amundi, however, did not feel so tongue-tied.

  “Very well, Halfdan,” Amundi said. “Speak. We’re listening.”

  “I hope you are. I hope Odd is,” Halfdan said. “He seems a little confused right now. So here we are. I am in possession of young Hallbera. Odd’s sister. I hope you won’t force me to actually threaten the child. I don’t think I need to do that. You can imagine what might happen to her. Selling her into slavery would be the least of it.”

  Once again Odd tried to talk and once again it fell to Amundi.

&
nbsp; “That’s your idea of not threatening the child?”

  Halfdan shrugged. “There’s been a lot of talking at cross purposes as of late. I just want to make sure we all understand each other.”

  “I’m sure we do,” Amundi said. “I’m sure you understand that we have your wife and your child in here. And the wives and children of many of your men as well.”

  “Now it seems that you’re the one threatening children,” Halfdan said.

  “I just want to make sure we understand each other,” Amundi said.

  “We do,” Halfdan said. “You see, even if you butcher all the women and children in there, you’ll still have to fight us at some point. You can stay behind those walls for a long time, but not forever. And the longer you wait the more of my warriors will arrive from the garrisons abroad.”

  Odd waited for Amundi to speak, but apparently the man had no reply to that. Instead, Halfdan continued.

  “I think we also know that you won’t slaughter the women and children,” he said. “I don’t think your honor would allow for that.”

  “And your honor?” Amundi asked. “Your honor would allow you to kill that child?”

  “My honor lies in being king of Agder and the lands beyond,” Halfdan said. “My honor lies in sitting unchallenged on my throne. And I’ll do whatever I need to do to preserve that honor.”

  A bargain… Odd thought. A deal, make a deal.

  “I have no argument for any of that,” Odd said. Halfdan looked from Amundi to him and smiled.

  “Ah, you can speak!” he said.

  “I know you for a liar and a coward, but what you’ve said here is all true enough,” Odd continued. “Every man in here is willing to fight to the last, and that would mean a lot of your warriors dead as well. It will cost you dear to take your great hall back. But I’ll offer you a bargain. Swap me for Hallbera, and let the others here go free. You get what you really want and you get it cheap.” The offer was sincere, the best that Odd could make, though he doubted that Halfdan would ever agree to such a thing.

  But Halfdan surprised him

  “You and I think alike,” Halfdan said. “I wouldn’t have guessed it, but it seems we do. I can accept your offer. You for the child. You open the gates and I let the rest march free.”

  Odd was making the first syllables of agreement when Amundi cut him off.

  “Very generous, just as we would expect from so kind a king,” he said. “But we must discuss this. The decision is not Odd’s alone.”

  “No?” Halfdan said. “I should think it is. His and mine. But whatever you say. I’ll be back at midday, and I’ll expect your answer then.” He turned his horse and Onund Jonsson who held Hallbera turned as well and they rode back toward the camp, the rest of the hird once more following behind.

  Amundi turned to Odd. “The fire circle,” he said. “Let’s gather at the fire circle and we’ll talk about this with the rest.”

  They climbed down the ladder and walked over the ground to the ring of benches. Odd felt as if he was floating, as if his mind and body were not connected. Once again Halfdan had done something that he had not foreseen, not even a hint of it. Here Odd had concocted this idea of plundering Halfdan’s long hall, taking him by surprise, and instead Halfdan had pummeled him with one shock after another, until he was backed into a corner from which he would not escape with his life.

  Odd sat and waited as the others came over and sat as well. He looked over the set, angry, concerned faces of the freemen, the men he had led to this place, and he found his senses returning, mind and body joined as one once again.

  “Most of you heard what Halfdan had to say,” Odd said. “He has my sister, my little sister Hallbera, as hostage. How he laid hands on her I don’t know, but he has.”

  “Onund Jonsson,” Amundi said.

  “Onund…?” Odd asked.

  “Who else? Onund’s from Fevik. Knows everyone. I always counted him as a friend. Of course he would know where you sister was to be found. And he also commands Halfdan’s hird.”

  Onund Jonsson…of course… Odd thought. He might have felt a stabbing hatred for the man if he had any feeling left in him. But he didn’t, so he continued.

  “However he got her, he got her,” Odd said. “And now he’s offered a deal. A fair one. Hallbera for me. Straight trade. And the rest of you and your men, you’re free to go.”

  Ragi spat on the ground. “As if we could trust the word of that bastard!” he said. “We open the gates and we’re dead men, all of us. Sure, we can take plenty of Halfdan’s men with us, but in the end he’ll kill us all.”

  “One thing Halfdan said is true,” Thorgeir said. “We can garrison in here for a long time, but we can’t stay forever. Halfdan has hundreds more men far afield, but he can call them back. Outnumber us even more. The longer we wait the worse our chances get.”

  “If that’s true,” Odd said, “then why does he go to the trouble of taking Hallbera hostage? To save time?”

  “There’s one person here who probably knows Halfdan’s mind better than any,” Amundi said. “I think we should fetch her.”

  Word was passed, and soon after Ragnhild came striding defiantly up to the fire ring, two spearmen behind her. Her face was set in a scowl and there was not a trace of fear in it.

  “What do you want of me?” she demanded to the gathering in general.

  “I beg you, sit,” Odd said, gesturing to an empty spot on one of the benches, and Ragnhild just glared at him and did not reply and did not move. “Suit yourself,” Odd said.

  “This is what we want of you,” Amundi said. “We want you to tell us what Halfdan has in mind.”

  “And how could I know that?”

  “Your best guess,” Thorgeir said. “Halfdan has offered…”

  “I know what’s he’s offered,” Ragnhild cut him off. Her scowl turned into something more like a smirk as she looked at Odd. “You’re a special man, Odd Thorgrimson. Halfdan’s gone to a lot of trouble to get his hands on you. You should be honored.”

  “I am,” Odd said. “But what I don’t understand is, why would Halfdan be willing to let the rest of these men go? Why does he only want me? Sure, this all started with me, and my father’s farm, but the rest here have stood up to him as well. Why does he not want them? Or will he betray us, kill us all if we open the gate?”

  Ragnhild looked over the assembled men, as if gauging how much, if anything, to tell them.

  “You’re not escaping, none of you,” she said at last. “Oh, maybe with your lives, but Halfdan will see that you pay, and pay well. Taxes, tribute. Warriors, slaves. He’ll take all that, and you’ll have the example of what becomes of Odd to remind you of why you would rather pay than suffer at my husband’s hands. Of course he could kill you all now, but you’re worth much more to him, for much longer, if you’re allowed to live. Dead men don’t pay tribute.”

  “Halfdan takes a big risk, making us choose,” Vifil said. “We have you, and Halfdan’s son, as hostage. And the other women and children.”

  Ragnhild looked at him, a scornful look. “Halfdan is not risking anything that is of any real worth to him,” she said. “He cares only about his throne. If that’s threatened then nothing else matters.”

  “You believe that Halfdan will be true to his word?” Odd said. “Let these others go if I give myself up?”

  “I don’t know what Halfdan will do, any more than you do,” Ragnhild said. “I just know he has good reason to want you and just you, Odd Thorgrimson. To make an example of you. And to let the others live. You know what your choice is. Take your chance and open the gate, or stay in here until we all starve.”

  With that she turned and pushed through the two spearmen and headed back toward the hall, and no one tried to stop her.

  “Halfdan must know how long we can stay here,” Vifil said. “Even if he doesn’t know how much food is in here, one of his men must.”

  “How much food is in here?” Amundi asked.


  “Two, three weeks’ worth, if we’re careful,” Vifil said. Silence followed that assessment as Odd and the rest considered what would might happen over that short span of time. The brutal hunger. The fighting for scraps. Death from wounds and from starvation. And finally, the desperate attempt to battle their way free of the compound, the crazed, half-starved men against Halfdan’s large and well-fed army.

  “This is a simple thing,” Odd said at last. “Hardly worth discussion. There’s a chance, a good chance, I think, that all of you can get free of here if I give myself up to Halfdan. Weigh that against the certainty that we will all be butchered if we remain. And Halfdan will do what he will to my sister.”

  There was silence in the wake of that pronouncement, then Amundi said, “We came into this together and we’ll stand together. We’re not going to feed you to Halfdan like scrap meat to the wolves.”

  Odd looked around. Heads were nodding.

  “There’s no choice,” Odd said. “I will not ask you to stand and fight in hope of saving my life. Not when it means that many of you will die, and my sister as well. That I cannot do.”

  “We all die eventually,” Amundi said. “You, me. Your sister. All we can hope for is to die like men, weapons in hand. If we can take Halfdan with us, then no harm comes to your sister.”

  “We must act fast. Now,” Ragi said. “Any time wasted is a gift to Halfdan. At midday he’ll be just outside the gate with only his hird to guard him. He’ll come to talk, and when he does, we throw open the gates and come out under arms.”

  “Go right at ’em, take them by surprise,” Thorgeir said. “Snatch Halfdan and Odd’s sister, and then we’re the ones who have hostages worth bargaining for.”

  Odd looked around once more. Heads were nodding again but faces were grim. It was a plan, the only one they could think of, perhaps the only one available. Odd doubted that any man there thought it would work, that they could grab Halfdan in time, or that Halfdan’s army would not be ready for them. It was just about the worst of plans, but the alternative was waiting around to see what fate would bring to them, and that would be worse still. Better to force fate’s hand. Better to act than to be acted upon.