by H A CULLEY
The monastery was deserted when they reached it. The monks had long gone, carrying as many of their treasures with them as they could. Ragnar decided that pursuing them wasn’t an option; this was a populous land and it wouldn’t be too long before more soldiers and militia arrived to attack them. They looted what was left behind, and that alone made the raid worthwhile, before ransacking the settlement.
They looked for freshly dug earth where the inhabitants had buried what valuables they couldn’t take with them and Ragnar’s men carried the chests and valuables they unearthed back to their ships. They were still busy doing this when one of the scouts rode in on a borrowed horse to say that a large body of men was approaching.
‘’How many?’ Ragnar asked, puzzled by how quickly a new force had been mustered to oppose him.
‘Difficult to say, lord. There are a few riders at the front but the rest are obscured by the dust they’re kicking up; but there must be hundreds of them to raise that much.’
Olaf was about to give the order to fire the place but Ragnar stopped him.
‘No, leave it be. That way they’ll still be here when we return in a year or two’s time and we can raid them again.’
As they sailed away a dozen horsemen watched them go. They congratulated themselves on their successful trick and untied the saplings they had dragged behind them to make the heathen raiders think that there were hundreds of them. Once they were satisfied that the enemy had really gone for good, they went to let everyone know that the coast was clear.
Ragnar looted two more places before he reached the mouth of the River Seine. He raided the two small settlements either side of where the wide estuary ran into the sea and was tempted to explore along the river itself, but it was late in the season now and so he turned for home.
He was well pleased with the outcome of the summer’s raiding. Now he had enough wealth to recruit an army to take back his kingdom and exact revenge on those who had killed his parents.
Chapter Seven – Ragnar’s Revenge
828 to 830
Thora looked up from where she was playing with her two sons, three year old Agnar and baby Eirik, as Ragnar walked into their bed chamber in the jarl’s new hall on the island of Egholm in the narrowest part of the Limfjord. From there his men could easily control traffic along the seaway which linked the Germanic Ocean in the west to the Kattegat and the Baltic Sea in the east. The taxes he collected added to his wealth but, in truth, they paled into insignificance compared to the proceeds from his raiding.
Jarl Gutfred had died in 827, but by then most of his bondis already looked towards Ragnar as their leader. Unsuprisingly Ragnar’s preying on the coasts of Frisia and Neustria had earned him the enmity of King Harald, allied as he was with the Emperor of the Franks, Louis the Pious.
However, Harald’s unpopularity had increased, not only due to his association with Louis, but also because he had become a Christian. Horik, once King of Denmark before he was deposed by Louis and replaced by Harald Klak, had been reduced to being the Jarl of Fyn, the second biggest of the Danish islands in the Kattegat. A revolt against King Harald’s rule had been simmering for some time and now the former monarch had approached him to join a plot to oust Harald.
‘What will you do?’ Thora asked climbing to her feet with difficulty; she was in the latter stages of pregnancy with their third child.
‘I will go and meet Horik and the others to see what they plan. However, my priority remains to kill Froh and regain Agder, so I don’t want to get involved in a prolonged internal struggle for the throne of Denmark.’
Thora sighed. She was quite content to remain the wife of one of the richest jarls in Denmark and had no desire to risk everything to become queen of a much more inhospitable land in Norway. However, Ragnar was not a man to be dissuaded from what he regarded as his destiny.
‘I still say that our best approach is to row up the Schlei and attack Hedeby from the water,’ Horik maintained. ‘The landward side of the settlement is protected by a tall palisade on top of a steep earth embankment. There are no defences along the bank of the Schlei.’
The Schlei was the long, narrow fjord that led to Harald’s capital at Hedeby.
‘The problem is that there are two choke points along the Schlei which he could easily block once he had warning of our coming,’ one of the other jarls pointed out.’
Of the thirty two jarls in Denmark, nineteen were present at the meeting called to plot Harald’s overthrow. The other thirteen were either supporters of Harald or preferred to sit on the fence so that they could join the winning side. Many of those, and even some of those present, were worried that Louis was unlikely to sit idly by whilst his protégé was deposed.
However, Ragnar wasn’t concerned about Louis and said so.
‘He’s got enough problems without bothering about Denmark,’ he had said when the subject came up. ‘His eldest son, Lothair, is disputing Louis’ decision to make his youngest son, Charles, Duke of Swabia. I wouldn’t be surprised if the dispute ended up as a war between Louis and Lothair. At any event, he’s in no position to intervene in Denmark at the moment.’
Ragnar was well aware that, as the youngest jarl present by at least ten years, the others tended to disregard his views, however successful a raider he might have been over the past few years. However, he now took comfort from a few nods of grudging agreement and pressed on.
‘You are all talking as if there are only two options, an attack by land or one from the fjord. There is a third: attack on land and along the Schlei. If we create a diversionary attack by laying siege on the landward side, we’ll be able to row along the fjord without too much interference.’
‘Even if they do put booms in place at the narrows we can land and lower them again. They won’t be able to defend them in strength if they are being beseiged.’
Those who had been about to object fell silent as the unexpected support had come from Horik.
Ragnar went home elated by the adoption of his stratagem to depose Harald Klak. He also seemed to have made an ally of Horik, the next King of Denmark if all went well, and his head was full of plans to recover Agder. He couldn’t wait to discuss them with Thora and Olaf. However, as his drekar approached the jetty at Egholm he had a premonition that all was not well.
His unease was reinforced when he remembered that Torstein, the godi, had sidled up to him at the feast the previous evening. He had whispered in his ear that the Norns were displeased with him and plotted to bring him low. Ragnar had dismissed it at the time, being too drunk to care much for the man’s doom laden warning, but he recalled what he’d said now.
When he landed he found Olaf, who he’d left in charge in his absence, waiting for him on the jetty. His friend’s face only confirmed that he was the bearer of ill-tidings.
‘Ragnar, I’m sorry,’ Olaf said when he’d walked with him a discreet distance away from the welcome being given to the crew by their families. ‘There is no easy was to say this, the baby was born dead and Thora lost so much blood that she died the next day.’
Ragnar felt as if a horse had kicked him in the guts. He and Thora were both strong willed and they’d fought a lot, but he respected her and she had been there to guide and help him over the past few years. He wasn’t sure that he’d loved her in the way the skálds portrayed it, but he would miss her advice, companionship and support.
He nodded his thanks and patted Olaf absently on his shoulder before walking away along the beach to be alone with his thoughts.
A worried Leofstan went to follow his master but Olaf grabbed him, by the arm.
‘He needs to be alone with his thoughts and memories now, lad. He doesn’t need comfort from the likes of you.’
Leofstan thought that was probably just what Ragnar needed right now but he didn’t say anything. He glanced at Olaf and nodded but he was puzzled by the young man’s expression. Leofstan had given Olaf no reason to dislike or distrust him, as far as he was aware, but the look th
e Norseman gave him was unmistakeably one of hostility.
-℣-
In April 829 all was prepared and, whilst the majority of the jarls based on the Danish mainland marched south to Hedeby, Ragnar, Horik and the jarls from the other Danish islands sailed into the Schlei. Ragnar’s task was to land his men on either side of the fjord near the choke points and secure them to allow the fleet safe passage.
He still missed Thora but he’d got over her loss faster that he thought he would. It had helped having the campaign to concentrate on. He had fostered their two sons out with one of his married bondi who had no children of his own. At first he visited them weekly, then monthly, but it had been nearly three months now since he had last seen Agnar and Eirik.
The first point where the waterway narrowed was located near a small settlement called Grödersby. The latter lay a little way inland from the peninsula which jutted out into the fjord, lessening the width of the fjord at that point to no more than two hundred and fifty yards. There was a lookout tower on the west bank, together with a large windlass powered by a horse who, at that moment, stood placidly eating grass. The animal was evidently used to raise and lower a cable to block the river, as required.
The rain had started as they entered the fjord and it was quite heavy by the time that Ragnar’s drekar drew close to the shore below the wooden tower. He watched impotently as the lookout climbed down the ladder and made for the wood piled ready nearby. No doubt this was a warning beacon but the Norns, who weaved the fate of men, were with the rebels. The man tried frantically to light the fire but the kindling was too wet.
The shore was rocky so Ragnar pulled off his byrnie, goatskins and helmet before diving into the water. After a few powerful strokes he tried to stand and found to his relief that the water was only waist deep. He overcame the tendency to shiver and waded ashore armed with an axe and sword strapped to his back and gripping a dagger between his teeth.
The man was still trying frantically to get the sparks from his flint to set the shavings alight when he became aware of the young man heading towards him. He rapidly got to his feet and started to run away, but he wasn’t quick enough. Ragnar’s axe came down on the small of his back, severing his spinal cord and smashing his lower spine. The next blow stove in his head and Ragnar stood there for a moment, breathing hard whilst he recovered his breath.
He pulled his bloody axe free of the man’s skull before using it to kill the horse which powered the windlass. Finally he severed the cable, although it took five blows to do so. Satisfied, he hung his axe on his back before swimming back to the ship, where he was pulled aboard to the cheers of his crew.
Dripping all over the deck, he grinned at them for a moment before barking out, ‘well, what are you idle sods waiting for; start rowing and catch the others up or we’ll miss all the fun.’
The next restricted channel ran for half a mile just before the entrance into the lake on which Hedeby stood. This was no more than seventy yards wide and was defended by a fortress on the west bank at the narrowest point. Once again there was a boom that could be raised to close off the channel but this one was made of heavy chain. There was a windlass similar to the last one, but larger. This one was powered by two horses because of the greater weight of the chain, despite its shorter length compared to last boom.
The archers on board killed the horses as they plodded around the windlass, raising the chain, and the boom came to an abrupt halt. Then they kept the defenders’ heads down whilst the longships rowed over the half-raised chain.
‘Stupid buggers should have put a defensive breastworks up to protect the horses,’ Olaf muttered as they entered the large lake beyond the narrows.
‘Their purpose is to collect taxes, not defend Hedeby,’ Ragnar pointed out. ‘Knarrs pull into the wharf, have their cargoes inspected and pay their dues. Then the boom is lowered and they sail on to Hedeby. I doubt that anyone thought that it would be attacked by a Danish fleet. Not until today, at any rate.’
The rain continued to lash down as they hoisted their sails to give the rowers some respite and they made their way across the lake to the southern offshoot known as the Hedeby Nor. Hedeby itself lay on the south western shore of this lake and, as the longships entered it, they could just make out the encampment of the besiegers through the falling rain. They headed for the various jetties jutting out from the quayside and, thanks to the poor visibility through the driving rain, were a mere hundred yards away before the alarm was raised.
By the time that they had come alongside and the warriors had disembarked, leaving the ships’ boys to moor the ships to the jetties, Harald’s own warriors had started to form a shield wall. However, it was obvious that they were outnumbered and a tall man with arms like tree trunks stepped forward and halted halfway between the two forces.
‘There is no point in fighting,’ he said calmly. ‘Harald Klak slipped away in a small knarr as soon as he heard the alarm.’
He pointed to the small ship which was now halfway across the fjord and heading for the other bank.
Horik cursed. It was pointless chasing him. No doubt he would have horses waiting to make good his escape.
‘They’ll have crossed onto the emperor’s territory before you could catch him,’ the big man said with a grin.
‘Wipe that smile off your face or I’ll do it for you,’ Horik snapped, frustrated that his enemy had eluded him.
He took a deep breath to calm himself before asking ‘do you surrender then?’
‘And acknowledge you as our king, Horik?’
The other man nodded but didn’t say anything further.
‘Very well, yes but on one condition. Some of us are Christians now and we have a church and priests here. Will you promise them your protection and allow those of us who wish to practice our religion freely?’
‘Allow you to sully the name of Odin and the gods of our fathers? No. All I’ll do is to permit the followers of the White Christ and their lily livered priests to depart Denmark. Any still here after dawn tomorrow will be killed.’
The leader of the inhabitants of Hedeby sighed and his shoulders drooped.
‘Very well, I suppose I should have expected no better from a godless pagan like you, Horik. We’ll leave tonight but our God is the true God and he will prevail in the end.’
Ragnar watched those who had gathered to oppose them disperse with mixed feelings. He was glad he wasn’t about to lose any of his men in a fight where the outcome was obvious, but he itched to kill the followers of the man who had brought the hated new religion to Hedeby.
That night Horik was formally installed as king and his godi sacrificed a prize bull to Odin and the gods in gratitude for their easy victory. Ragnar got as drunk as the rest of them, but in the morning he went for a swim in the sea to clear his head and to think about recovering his birth right.
-℣-
‘Why attack Alfheim first? Won’t that just give Froh warning that you are coming for him?’ Olaf asked Ragnar as they sat together drinking back in the latter’s hall at Egholm.
Ragnar had built a much bigger longhouse than the one back at Fladstrand. He could now afford to keep a total of eighty hirdmen, over half of whom were bachelors who lived in his hall instead of in a separate warriors’ hall. It was long and relatively narrow with ten alcoves each side, each furnished with tables and benches. These served as places to eat and drink and, when pushed back against the wall, sleeping platforms.
There were two long fire pits in the centre space which kept the hall warm in winter. They also served as the place where the cooking was done. As the two friends spoke together two young boys were roasting a cow and a stag respectively on two spits above the fire for the evening meal. The boys’ bodies and faces were bright red and they were sweating profusely from the heat. Their only solace was to count the time until they would be relieved by other young thralls.
As Leofstan refilled Ragnar’s drinking horn with ale the latter glanced up and the two excha
nged a smile. It didn’t seem that long ago since he’d used any thrall as his body servant. Now Leofstan not only looked after him much better than anyone else ever had, but he also supervised the young thralls and ensured that they did their jobs properly. Effectively he was a combination of body servant and steward.
All of Ragnar’s thralls were young Swedes and Frisians that he had captured during various raids in recent years. Girls as well as boys served him and his hirdmen and two of the former took it in turns to keep him company in bed these days. After Thora’s death he was in no hurry to marry again. However, Leoftstan jealously guarded his privileged position as Ragnar’s body servant and beat any girl who thought that her place in Ragnar’s bed gave her a right to challenge his position.
At the end of the longhouse there was a spacious bedchamber shut off from the noise of sixty men and thralls sleeping, snoring and farting in the main hall by a stout wooden partition. He gestured for Olaf to follow him into this chamber. It was chilly in there compared to the main hall as the brazier had not yet been lit, but they could talk in private.
‘If I launch an assault on Agder first, I give Froh’s brother, Kjarten, time to raise an army to oppose me and perhaps re-capture Agder. Destroy him first and hopefully the Norse jarls will desert Froh and side with me.’
‘It’s been nearly seven years since Froh killed your parents, the jarls and the bondis may decide they owe him their allegiance now.’
Ragnar scowled. ‘Are you trying to help me or dissuade me from killing Froh?’
‘I’m just worried that we’ll lose a lot of men in a fruitless attack on Alfheim, which has nothing to do with us, and that will prevent us from a successful campaign against Froh himself.’
‘So you think I should kill Froh and take back Agder and then hope I can defeat the inevitable counter-attack by Kjarten?’
‘Is it inevitable? Kjarten seems content with his kingdom; why should he risk it by an attack on Agder?’
