God's Hammer

by Eric Schumacher

Erik laughed. “Ah, Hakon. It is a pity that our father never knew you well. He would have appreciated your audacity.” His face suddenly hardened. “But I see no army, Hakon, only three aging men and a boy. Unless you can force me to submit, I will do no such thing. However, I will offer you the chance. Submit to me now, and all will be forgiven.”

  Hakon straightened in his saddle. “Tell me exactly what it is you have to offer, so that I might consider your words.”

  Erik grinned wickedly. “I will give you the Vestfold district, the richest of all the districts in land and trade. Think of it, Hakon. Kaupang can be yours to control.”

  “So long as Hakon pays you all the income from it, is that not right, Erik?”

  Sigurd timed his interruption perfectly. Hakon turned to rebuke him. “Silence, Sigurd. Erik makes me a generous offer; even you can see that.” He turned back to Erik. “I will think about it tonight and answer you on the morrow. Just after sunrise in this same spot.”

  Erik continued to grin. “Think hard, Hakon. It is a favorable bargain.” With that, Erik motioned to his comrades and the three men galloped back to their army.

  “Well done, Hakon.” Sigurd smiled approvingly. “I think he believed you.”

  “Aye.”

  Ivar did not smile. “It seems we have purchased a day. Now, let us hope the Tronds arrive in time.”

  Hakon's smile faded.

  “They will show,” Sigurd insisted. “My Tronds will not fail us.”

  “I would say they had better,” replied Ivar as he swung his mount around, “but I fear it would do no good. For if they don't, we will all be dead before the sun sets tomorrow.”

  Chapter 42

  At sunset, Ivar held another council. “The Tronds have failed us,” he said bluntly, and held up his hand to silence Sigurd. “Whatever the reason, they are not here, and we cannot count on them to arrive in time.” He eyed each man gravely. “The way I see it, we have but two paths open to us now. Fight, or fall back. It is a grim choice, for despite our defenses,” he motioned to the log wall that now stood four logs high and stretched the circumference of the hilltop, “there are not enough men among us to defeat Erik's army if we choose to fight—unless the gods grant us victory. The second choice leaves a sour taste in my mouth. It shames me to think that I will be hiding from danger, that I cannot stand before Erik's army and protect my lands. Yet, common sense tells me it is the wisest approach. I would like to hear your advice when I call your name. Sigurd?”

  Sigurd eyed Ivar, the sting of Ivar's words clear in his jutting chin and glaring eyes. “Let me start by saying that the Tronds have not yet failed us. I have not known any of my men to run from danger and I, especially, would not expect them to do so now. There must be a reason for their delay. That said, I say we make a stand. I have been running since the battle of Mollebakken, and I am tired of it. Our defenses will serve us well on the morrow. Let Erik do his best against us.”

  Ivar nodded thoughtfully. “Thorgil? What do you think, my son?”

  “You know my counsel, father. To fight is folly.” Thorgil's eyes slid briefly to Sigurd. “I have no faith that the Tronds are coming, nor that they will arrive in time. And without them, we will be slaughtered. Honor or no honor, let us fall back to fight another day.”

  “What cowardly talk is that?” broke in Trygvi. “You give your Uplanders a poor name and yourself an even worse one.”

  “Silence, Trygvi!” Ivar was on his feet in an instant, ending the argument before it had time to start. “You will speak when it is your turn.” He straightened his cloak and turned to Hakon. “And you, Hakon?”

  Hakon considered his words carefully. “As much as I do not relish fighting with these odds, I have heard of battles where the odds were worse. If it is determined tonight that we fight, then let us at least ensure a good fight. We can prevail if we use our defenses to our advantage. Let them come to us. Let them attack uphill against our walled-in army.” He looked at the hardened, firelit faces of those around him. “Now is our time to win or lose this kingdom. If we win with these odds, not only will we finally wrest the kingdom from Erik, but we will earn praise for time eternal. If we lose, at least we do so with our face to the enemy.”

  Ivar nodded. “Well spoken, Hakon. Gudrod?”

  “I agree with Hakon and Sigurd. I too am tired of running and eager to let Erik taste the metal of my blade. Let us fight—but, as Hakon suggests, let us do so wisely. We do not have the luxury of manpower for mistakes. By morning, our wall must be completed.”

  “Egil?”

  “My place is by Hakon's side. If he stays, so, too, do I.”

  Ivar scratched his beard as he looked at Trygvi. “I think I know your counsel already, Trygvi, so unless you have something constructive or contrary to add, I will assume that you are for the fight.”

  Trygvi nodded resolutely. “I am.”

  Ivar lifted his brow. “Well then, it is settled.” He grabbed Thorgil's arm before his son could speak. “I know you are against this, Thorgil, and I cannot restrain you if you wish to take your men and depart tonight. No one here will think the worse of you for it.”

  Thorgil frowned as he looked at each man in turn. Finally he sighed and gripped his father's shoulder. “As opposed as I am to this, I will not leave you here to fight alone. I will stay.”

  Ivar nodded gravely. “It is settled, then. The raven's feast it is.”

  He was about to speak again when a sentry on the north side of the hill called out a challenge. This was followed by an answer too far off to hear, which sent a commotion rumbling through the camp.

  The council stood as first one, then two, then a handful of men appeared on horseback. The long shadows of dusk hid the identity of the new arrivals, but the crowd that gathered around them indicated that they were, at least, friendly.

  Thorgil was the first to recognize them. “Brand! Udd!” He raced off to join them.

  After a warm greeting, Thorgil grabbed Brand and Udd by the elbow and led them over to the council.

  “I am glad to have found you,” Brand declared. “I feared that the battle had been fought already and that I missed out on all the fun.” He opened his arms to his father.

  Ivar greeted his son with a bear hug and a smile so bright it seemed to lift his entire face. “It is good to see you, lad. And you as well, Udd. I thought we might never see your faces again.” Ivar motioned for everyone to sit. “Who are the others?”

  “My scouts,” answered Brand as he found a seat beside his father.

  His words stilled the others. “You did not find the Tronds?”

  Brand shook his head. “No.”

  All eyes turned to Sigurd, as if he were solely culpable for their absence. Sigurd, in turn, snarled at the council, “Do not look at me so. Something must have happened.”

  Ivar held up his hands. “It changes nothing. We go ahead as planned.”

  The news crushed Hakon's spirits more than he had expected. All along he had clung to the hope that the Tronds would arrive, that they might somehow show at the last minute. But not until that moment did he realize just how much his morale relied on that belief. He felt suddenly sick to his stomach and fought the urge to leave the council and find a quiet place to purge his fear.

  Brand looked around the group in confusion. “Go ahead?”

  Ivar eyed his younger son gravely. “Aye, Brand—with the fight. On the morrow we will meet Erik's forces. The council has decided. As I told your brother, you are free to take your men and leave.”

  Brand's scar stretched grotesquely as he grimaced. “Leave? I would not think of such a thing. I have dreamed of this day.”

  Ivar grinned ruefully. “It is as I expected.”

  Brand smacked his father's shoulder. “Come, do not look so down. The lot of you look as if we have already lost. I know the news of the Tronds is disappointing, but I have plans that may help us—at least where the gods are concerned. I brought a few of our thralls as offerings. Surely the go
ds will not deny us after that.”

  The men looked at each other. Finally Trygvi said, “A sacrifice. A wonderful idea. I do not need a lifting of spirit, but the others here—and the men, for sure—need the boost.”

  Hakon straightened. “There will be no sacrifices. Especially of humans.”

  “You will deny us a sacrifice on the eve of battle, will you Christian?” A malevolent grin twisted Udd's face.

  Brand laughed at the jibe. “Come, Hakon, you look as if the world were ending. It is but a small sacrifice. Turn your eyes elsewhere, if it bothers you.”

  Hakon shifted his eyes between Udd and Brand and saw immediately that something was desperately wrong. He was not sure why or how he knew this, only that something in their words and their sinister grins bespoke trouble.

  Without comment, he stood and marched to the northern side of camp, where the newcomers huddled in groups. Hakon scanned them, but saw no one who appeared to be a thrall. A second, closer look revealed three figures, standing back to back as if tied together, their heads bent under the hoods of their frayed cloaks. Hakon pushed his way through the crowd to them. He grabbed the hood of the first figure and pulled it back, revealing the gnarled and toothless face of an older man. The man was missing his left eye, and Hakon flinched when he saw the drooping hole above his sunken cheek.

  Hakon moved to the next figure and removed the hood. A woman of middle age stared back at him, her face as set and expressionless as a stone statue's. He recognized her as one of the field workers.

  He moved to the final figure and pulled the hood free with shaking hands. Dark curls tumbled from the folds of wool as the hood dropped from his hand. Hakon blinked, then closed his eyes, hoping against hope that when he reopened them, he would see a different face looking back at him. “No,” he heard himself whisper. “No! No! No!”

  Tears moistened Aelfwin's eyes and cheeks. “Hakon, do not. It is useless.”

  “No!” His voice tore through the night as he pulled Quern-biter free of its leather sheath.

  “Please, Hakon.”

  But Hakon did not listen. Instead, he strode back to the fire where the council now stood and raised his blade to the first man he saw—Udd.

  Udd raised his arms in surrender, though his eyes mocked. “Would you have my other hand, Hakon?” His calmness fueled Hakon's wrath. “She is merely a thrall.”

  To either side of Hakon, Ivar's sons had drawn their weapons and stood ready to strike. Hakon saw the firelight shine on their uplifted blades, but paid them no heed.

  “A mere thrall, you say? A thrall! She is the daughter of an Anglisc nobleman, a relative to Athelstan, and a friend to me.” He brought his blade up to Udd's neck. “You are more thrall than she.”

  “Hakon,” Sigurd's voice warned, “control yourself.”

  “Keep your lips tight, Sigurd. This is Udd's revenge for what I did to him, and now I will see that he pays for it.”

  By now, the camp had heard the commotion and began to gather around. Egil stepped away and forced them back.

  Udd grinned. “You think that her being here is my doing, don't you, lad? But alas, Hakon, you are wrong in that. I was merely following orders.”

  Hakon faltered. “Orders? Whose orders?”

  Udd glanced over his shoulder at Brand.

  Hakon's eyes went wide. “You? But—but why? What reason could you have to order her here?”

  Brand sighed deeply. Rather than speak, he reached into his pocket and removed something shiny. He held it up to the firelight. Hakon's cross glinted before them all.

  Hakon's defense faded on his lips as Ivar grabbed the cross from Brand's hand and held it up to the light. It spun before him like a beacon to Hakon's lie. Ivar glared at Hakon. “You disappoint me, Hakon. I was just beginning to trust you.”

  Hakon glanced at Sigurd. As he did so, Thorgil swept in and knocked the sword from his hand. The blow forced Hakon off balance. In his attempt to right himself, he caught his heel on a rock and fell heavily to the ground. Thorgil's sword swung to his throat before he could move.

  Ivar's face appeared beside his son's, his brow furrowed with what appeared to be regret, though Hakon could not be sure. “I am sorry it has to be like this.”

  Hakon did not quite understand. “Be like what, Ivar? What do you mean?”

  Thorgil backed away to resheath his sword. Hakon climbed to his feet. “You will not lay a hand on those thralls, Ivar. I command it.”

  Sigurd stepped forward. “You are in no position to bargain, Hakon.”

  Hakon would not be intimidated. “You forget who is king here, Sig—”

  “You, Hakon, are not yet king! Nor will you be, without Ivar's help! I suggest you remember that. Now,” he pointed at Ivar, “you have affronted Ivar by lying about the girl, and vexed me with your heedlessness. How dare you, after all that, assume that you have a say in this matter? You are lucky Ivar has not taken his army and gone from here already. Do you understand my words?”

  Hakon held his ground. “You will not kill the girl! Kill the others if it suits you, but I beg of you, leave the girl alone.”

  Ivar's eyes narrowed as his patience thinned. “Is the girl worth the kingdom to you, Hakon?”

  The question took Hakon by surprise. It was a simple question, really, but one Hakon never thought he would have to answer. Could he give the kingdom away to save Aelfwin? Forsake all that he had hoped, dreamed, and fought for? All that Athelstan had taught him? All the support and guidance that Sigurd had given him? All that he had endured to get to this point? Did he love her that much? He loved her, there was no doubt of that. But that much? Oh, God! “I—there … there has to be another way. I cannot allow this thing to happen.” His voice pleaded now. “Please, Ivar. You must understand.”

  Ivar looked back to Aelfwin. He stared at her for a long moment before turning back to Hakon. “The mere thought of her angers me. You spit on the honor of my daughter and our family. I should have killed her when I first suspected something was the matter. But alas, I needed your support and the support of your army, and knew that you would not give it, had I simply disposed of her.” He chuckled. “Needed your support. It is a joke, is it not?” He waved his arms expansively. “For where is your army now? Anyway, it is no longer a dilemma for me, as you can see. It is now your problem to solve. Either take the woman and leave the kingship, or forget the girl and take the realm … if you survive. It is your choice.”

  Hakon stood silently, blinking, unsure of how to respond.

  Ivar studied him, then sighed heavily. “I suppose there is another way, Hakon, if you wish my army to remain.”

  “Please, tell me.”

  “She must leave the North.”

  Hakon felt as if a fist had grabbed his heart and crushed it. “Send her away, send her back to Athelstan?”

  “I care not where she goes, so long as it is out of this realm and away from you.”

  Hakon bit his lip, knowing it would have to be. “I would be most grateful if you would allow this.”

  Ivar inclined his head, but did not speak.

  Hakon smiled. “Thank you, Ivar. I will not forget this.”

  Sigurd grunted. “You had best not.”

  After a moment of awkward silence, Ivar backed away to let Hakon pass. Hakon stepped past him and went to find Aelfwin.

  He found her with her hands still tied to those of the other thralls. The temperature had dropped substantially with the coming of darkness, and Aelfwin's whole body shivered from the cold. Hakon placed his own cloak about her shoulders, then knelt beside her and reached for the ropes that bound her wrists. As he worked to unbind her, he recounted his confrontation with Udd and Ivar and told her of the resulting decision. When the knot was undone, he moved her to a vacant fire, all the while keeping a positive lilt to his voice.

  Aelfwin did not greet the news with the joy Hakon had anticipated. Rather, her eyes moistened and her face softened. Her long fingers moved to her cheeks and gently wipe
d her tears aside. “I—I cannot go back.”

  Hakon understood her meaning immediately and moved to head her off. “Aelfwin, please. It is your only hope.”

  She tried to repeat her words, but her face crumpled as sobs overtook her.

  “I will send you with a letter from me, requesting that Athelstan take you back. He will do so, I know it. You can spend your days in a nunnery.”

  She regained her composure and tried to smile. “Your offer is kind, Hakon, but you know that I will be shunned wherever I go. I have been used by heathens and am, in the eyes of the church, condemned to eternal perdition for my sins, even if those sins were forced upon me. I am beyond prayer and beyond hope. Nunneries would bar the door at my knock. And if the priests did not kill me immediately for my sins, they would force me into hiding, to live my life as a leper.

  “You could make the request to Athelstan in person, but it would not save me. I have been married legally and am, therefore, my husband's property. I am sure he would reject me and turn me out. Or worse, beat me for my wrongs. He was an evil man, Hakon, and truth be told, death may be better than going back to him.”

  “What about your family? Your father and mother?”

  “My father would force me from his hall, despite the wishes of my mother, for I am no longer able to marry and thus, of no use to him. Even if he were able to forgive me, my presence in his hall would bring shame upon him. I could not do that to him.”

  Hakon saw the despair in her eyes and grabbed her hands in sympathy of her pain. They felt like ice, as if the warmth of her life's blood had already left her. He tried to speak, to say something that might comfort her, but he found himself at a loss for words, for he knew in his heart that she spoke the truth.

  “There is no place for me, Hakon, if I cannot live here.” Her hand went to his cheek, and despite the circumstances, he felt his heart flutter with her touch. In that moment, he could have given it all away.

  “Maybe … maybe I can speak with—”

  She shook her head, cutting him off. “Please, Hakon. Say no more.” She spoke now with a bit more resolve. “One way or the other, I will die. If not here, on this hilltop, then later, in Engla-lond. If not in body, then in spirit. But either way, it will come soon enough. Please.” She stayed Hakon's protests with a hand on his arm. “It is alright. I have made my peace with God and am not afraid.”