The Wolf and the Raven

by H A CULLEY

  In less than an hour after sailing into the bay it was all over. The five Swedish longships had all been captured and most of their crews had been killed or badly wounded in the fight. Only a few had been captured and they would soon wish that they had died too; life as a Norseman’s thrall was not a pleasant existence.

  The other four ships had never left the jetty. As soon as Finnulf had realised that the battle was already lost, he abandoned them and headed inland with his remaining hundred and fifty men.

  -℣-

  The arrival of Ragnar Lodbrok at Uppsala hadn’t come as a surprise to King Eystein. His capital lay at the northern end of a fjord that was an offshoot of the wide sea inlet peppered with islands that stretched a hundred miles inland from the sea. Messengers had kept him appraised of the progress of the Norse fleet and of the fact that the drekars didn’t have their figureheads mounted; the universal sign that they came in peace.

  The port, which he assumed was Uppsala, was a much smaller place than Ragnar had expected. Compared to it, his own capital of Arendal was five times the size. The jetty was busy with knarrs unloading and loading and so they moored Ragnar’s drekar, and the three snekkjur he’d brought along as escort, further out in the fjord whilst they waited for a vacant berth. He hadn’t been there above half an hour when Bjarke drew his attention to a small boat with six oars which had cast off from the jetty and was now heading towards his ships.

  ‘Who are you and what is your business in Uppsala?’ a figure standing in the stern alongside the steersman called when the boat was less than fifty yards away.

  ‘King Ragnar Lodbrok of Agder in Norway has come to visit King Eystein,’ Olaf called in reply, then said quietly to Ragnar, ‘he knows full well who you are from the raven on our sails when we sailed in, if nothing else.’

  ‘Be quiet, Olaf. You’re quite right but there is a formality to these things and I must observe them.’

  ‘Bloody waste of time if you ask me,’ Olaf snorted.

  ‘I didn’t,’ Ragnar snapped back.

  He was anxious about the forthcoming meeting with the most powerful king in Sweden and Olaf wasn’t helping to calm his nerves. Olaf looked surprised and then resentful at the way his friend had spoken to him, but he said nothing further.

  ‘Welcome, King Ragnar. Eystein Beli has been expecting you. He invites you to join him as his guest in his hall at Uppsala.’

  Ragnar scanned the settlement in front of him but he could see nothing that might be a king’s hall. Still less was there any sign of the fabled Temple of Uppsala, the centre of pagan worship in Scandinavia.

  The man standing in the boat laughed when he saw Ragnar looking for the hall and temple.

  ‘This isn’t Uppsala, Ragnar Lodbrok. It lies five miles up the River Fyris, the mouth of which is over there.’

  He pointed to where a small river flowed into the sea. It looked impassable to all but the smallest craft and he eyed it dubiously.

  ‘Come, a berth has been cleared for you at the jetty, but I fear that there is only room for your drekar. The rest of your ships will have to remain here.’

  ‘How will we get to Uppsala? Walk?’

  ‘No, we have three horses to convey you and two attendants to the king’s hall.’

  ‘Two of my hird to guard me? I may have come in peace, whoever you are, but I am not so foolish as to walk into another king’s domain with less than an appropriate number of hirdmen, and I will also bring my servants. Keep your horses; we will walk.’

  ‘No, Konungr, I’m sorry but my king would never forgive me. You must ride.’

  Ragnar smiled to himself. The young man’s attitude had changed as soon as he started to prove difficult. His use of the title Konungr - the formal way to address a king – indicated that he’d become flustered.

  ‘If my men walk, I walk.’

  The man shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Then I must see if I can hire more horses. How many men to you propose to bring with you?’

  ‘Twenty in all, myself, the three jarls who have accompanied me, our body servants and a suitable escort.’

  ‘Twenty?’ The young man looked dubious, but then nodded. ‘Very well, but it may take me until tomorrow. The horses will have to come from Uppsala.’

  ‘I’m in no rush. We’ll stay here at anchor for now. We can come alongside when you’ve cleared enough berths for all four of my longships.’

  The man nodded unhappily and was about to give the order to return to the jetty when Ragnar called out to him one more time.

  ‘By the way, you’ve neglected to tell me who you are.’

  ‘No, I didn’t say, did I? I’m Hákon, King Eystein’s nephew.’

  -℣-

  On the way to Eystein’s hall the next day they stopped at the Temple of Uppsala to worship before the three statues, seated on a single golden throne. The building itself was built like a square timber hall with a pointed tower at each corner. Suspended between each tower and the next was a golden chain. Ragnar couldn’t imagine what the chain must be worth; perhaps more than all wealth of the kings of Sweden and Norway put together.

  Thor’s image sat in the middle with Odin on one side of him and Frey, the god of fertility on the other, his enormous phallus leaving little doubt as to his identity. It was customary that a sacrifice was made to Thor when famine threatened. Before setting out for war or going raiding it was made to Odin. Frey received his sacrifices as part of all marriage ceremonies performed in the temple. However, Hákon suggested tactfully to Ragnar that he might want to appease all three. Ragnar gave the expectant godis, one for each god, a sullen look but he paid for three sheep to be slaughtered and offered to the three wooden effigies. He left thinking sourly that the godis and their acolytes would eat well tonight at his expense.

  The king’s hall was nearly as impressive as the temple. It was twice the size of Ragnar’s hall in Arendal with four fire pits along the central aisle in front of an oversized throne. This sat on a dais three quarters of the way down the hall. Behind it there was a wooden screen which sectioned off the private quarters of Eystein Beli and his family. The main part of the hall had alcoves all along each side which served as both sleeping areas and as places for his hirdmen to eat and drink.

  The gaps between the timbers of which the exterior walls were constructed were sealed with dried mud over which hung tapestries, old shields and animal skins. Each fire pit had a flap in the roof above it which could be opened to let smoke out or closed in inclement weather. However, the feature which impressed Ragnar the most was the smooth timber flooring. It all made his own hall, with its hard packed earth floor and bare walls, look primitive.

  At first he was so busy admiring the hall that he didn’t look at the throne area. When he did he studied the king and dismissed him as no warrior, with his thinning grey hair, wispy beard and large paunch. He looked to Ragnar like a man who enjoyed the good things in life and didn’t stir much outside his hall.

  His wife sat beside him on a small chair. She was more striking with long blond hair that had no more than a few strands of grey in it and a body, though old, which was still firm and nicely rounded.

  Two girls sat on the steps of the dais at their parents’ feet. Ragnar experienced a stirring in his loins as he looked at them for the first time. Both were extremely pretty, fair haired and young. He estimated that one was no more than fourteen and the other perhaps a year younger.

  Eystein noticed Ragnar’s interest in his daughters and he exchanged a quick look with his wife, who let the corners of her mouth curl upwards into a brief smile. Neither of the two girls were the type to look demurely at the floor in the presence of an attractive man. Whilst the elder, Ingeborg, saw a man of twenty seven who was arrogant and thought too much of himself, her sister, Aslaug, saw him as self-confident and handsome.

  The King of Uppsala welcomed Ragnar with a feast the like of which his guest had never seen. When he was bloated with food and half-drunk on ale, Eystein raised the
subject of an alliance with Ragnar.

  ‘Now that you have regained Adger in Norway and made yourself King of Alfheim, what do you intend to do next?’

  ‘Once my former wife has re-conquered my lands in Jutland, I will set about raising a large enough fleet to raid outside the Baltic.’

  If Eystein had anything to do with the former he was too astute to let his face betray the fact.

  ‘Then you don’t intent to raid Swedish lands again?’

  ‘No. Now that Froh and Kjarten are dead I have no quarrel with the Swedes; or at least, I won’t have once Finnulf of Gotland has joined them in Valhalla.’

  Eystein had hoped that Ragnar would diplomatically avoid the matter of Finnulf’s invasion, but now he had raised it the matter couldn’t be avoided. He gave Ragnar a hard stare, which the Norseman returned until it was the older man who looked away.

  ‘You are obviously aware that Finnulf is one of my jarls?’

  ‘Unless he’s acting on your instructions, then I don’t hold you responsible for his actions. Is he?’

  Eystein bit back the angry retort that sprang to his lips. He wanted this man as an ally, not an enemy.

  ‘Of course not, and I take exception to the suggestion that he is.’

  ‘Then I apologise. I too see an advantage in us becoming allies. You will realise that King Horik of Denmark isn’t particularly happy to have a jarl who is also the ruler of two independent kingdoms. No doubt that explains his reluctance to come to my aid when Finnulf invaded.’

  ‘You intend to challenge Horik for the throne of Denmark?’

  ‘Only if he makes it necessary.’

  Eystein was beginning to realise that Ragnar was ambitious and likely to be quite ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted.

  ‘I think that only a fool would make you his enemy, Ragnar Lodbrok. I hope that we can be friends.’

  ‘I too would like to see us as allies.’

  ‘You have already given me your word to stop raiding Sweden; however I would like to bind you closer to me. You said that you have put aside the shield maiden?’

  ‘Yes, Lagertha is no more to me now than one of my jarls.’

  It wasn’t true. He was still felt passionately about her, but he knew that they were not suited as man and wife – and never would be.

  ‘Then I suggest that you marry my daughter Ingeborg to cement our friendship.’

  Ragnar thought about it for a moment. The girl was lissom and he lusted after her, but he had was well aware that she didn’t feel the same way about him.

  ‘I’m not averse to the idea of marrying one of your daughters – in fact I welcome the idea – but the one I would choose is Aslaug.’

  Eystein was both surprised and alarmed. It was the last thing he wanted.

  ‘No, she is too young; Ingeborg is ready to be bedded; her sister isn’t.’

  ‘She seems to have already developed breasts, unless my eyes deceive me. In what way is she too young?’

  Eystein shifted uncomfortably and wouldn’t meet Ragnar’s eyes.

  ‘I knew you were coming to Uppsala before my lookouts sent word.’

  ‘Aslaug told you,’ he said, now understanding Eystein’s reluctance to lose her. ‘She’s a völva?’

  Some fools believed that Lagertha was a völva, but that was because they attributed her success as a warrior to magical powers. That was nonsense. In any case, a true völva could foretell the future and heal the sick. Lagertha could do neither of those things.

  Eystein sighed. ‘She told me that you were coming and that the Norns had woven your two life threads together.’

  Ragnar feared the Norns, as did all Scandinavian people, but he wasn’t sure that they controlled his fate. He believed that men made their own destiny, though he did acknowledge that the Norns decided if someone was destined to be lucky or unlucky.

  ‘In that case, I would hesitate to go against the desires of the Norns, Eystein. Do you think it’s wise to challenge them?’

  Eystein wasn’t such a fool that he didn’t realise that Ragnar was using his superstitions against him, but he didn’t want to lose Aslaug either. He had depended a great deal on the advice of his old völva and, of course, the godis at the temple, but she was getting old and she had told him herself that she wasn’t destined to live much longer. She had been training Aslaug as her replacement for the past year.

  ‘We will go to the temple tomorrow and seek advice,’ he said, getting up to indicate that their conversation was at an end.

  -℣-

  Ragnar’s bondis in Jutland had been caught off guard by Finnulf’s invasion. Disorganised and leaderless as they were, they had been unable to organise any effective opposition to the Swedes until Lagertha’s arrival. Now they flocked to her side and, led by a wealthy young bondi called Grimulf, they set out to corner Finnulf and his remaining Swedes.

  Whilst the Danish warriors pursued the Swedes into the interior, Lagertha sailed around the northern tip of Jutland and landed on the coast of the Jammerbugt – the Bay of Woe – an apt name for it as far as Finnulf was concerned. When Finnulf’s scouts reported to him that hundreds of Norse warriors blocked his path to the west, he turned north. He would have done better to have turned and attacked Grimulf’s small army instead. At least his one hundred and fifty men would only have been faced by two hundred or so.

  As it was, the two forces – Norse and Danes – combined and chased him into the narrow peninsula at the top of the Danish mainland called Toppenafdanmark. Lagertha didn’t know it, but this was the land originally granted to Ragnar by his uncle eight years previously.

  She had been impressed by the rich farmland she had traversed so far - so different to the bleak mountains of Norway – but this part of Denmark was full of sand, coarse grasses and scrub. There were few trees to shelter it from the wind that blew in off the German Ocean and she wondered how anyone managed to make a living in such a barren area. There were some sheep and rather more pigs but few cattle and no crops.

  Grimulf explained that there were plenty of fish in the sea and a plethora of wild mushrooms, berries and herbs in the summer and autumn. It was very different to her land in Norway but obtaining enough subsistence for its people seemed to be just as difficult.

  Eventually Finnulf was trapped near a small settlement inhabited by fishermen and their families at Skagen. The men, women and children had been killed by Finnulf’s men, which only served to enrage the Danes further. The Swedes were tired, hungry and dispirited and Grimulf was insistent on killing them all, but Lagertha was more careful with her men’s lives. Although they outnumbered the enemy by four to one, the Swedish warriors would sell their lives dearly and so she was bound to lose a good number of her own men in the process.

  Grimulf had consented to Lagertha taking the lead up to that point, but now he was angry at being thwarted by a woman and he refused to accept her decision.

  ‘Very well, Grimulf. Go ahead.’

  ‘What do you mean, go ahead?’

  ‘If you want to lead your men against Finnulf, that’s your decision. Neither I nor any of my men will help you, however. My only desire is to take their jarl’s head back to King Ragnar. Those are his orders and, may I remind you, he is your jarl as well as being a king in both Norway and Sweden.’

  That gave Grimulf pause for thought. After all, Lagertha had been Ragnar’s queen for several years, even if she wasn’t now. He didn’t want to offend him and wisely decided that the safest course of action was to accept the woman’s decision, however much he resented it.

  He nodded and so she walked forward and stopped just out of bowshot in front of the Swedes.

  ‘Surrender Finnulf to me and I’ll allow you to return to Gotland unharmed. I’ll even give you a knarr and a snekkja for the voyage.’

  ‘What will happen to our jarl?’ one of the Swedes called out.

  ‘King Ragnar demands his head, that’s all.’

  ‘Never!’ another man shouted. ‘We’d rat
her die first.’

  ‘Then prepare to enter Valhalla, or perhaps Helheim.’

  ‘Not Helheim, it’s only for those who die unworthy deaths or of old age,’ someone shouted back.

  ‘And you think that fighting for this devil’s spawn who murders Danish women and children for no purpose is a worthy cause?’ she asked scornfully. ‘Let’s hope the Valkyries agree with you.’

  She walked back to where her army waited and sent her archers forward as the Swedes formed a shield wall. Most of the first volley of arrows lodged in shields or ricocheted off helmets, but a few found exposed legs and, for one unfortunate youth, the narrow gap between helmet and eyes.

  ‘This is no way to fight,’ Grimulf said angrily. ‘If they are to die, they deserve a warrior’s death, fighting hand to hand.’

  ‘If you want to see your men die, go ahead Grimulf. Do you want me to call my archers back so that you can attack their shield wall?’

  ‘Not on our own, no. But this is the coward’s way of fighting. No man would behave like this.’

  ‘Be very careful, Grimulf, or I will kill you too,’ Lagertha told him quietly, the cold rage in her eyes chilling him.

  By then the third volley had killed or wounded several more of the Swedes and they decided that they had had enough. They started to advance and, in the face of another volley of arrows, the pace quickened and they lost formation.

  ‘Archers retreat, form shield wall,’ Lagertha yelled. ‘Now you’ll get your chance Grimulf. Back to your men.’

  He nodded and trotted off to join the other Danes on the left flank. The Swedes never stood a chance. They were seriously outnumbered and their attack was ragged. In contrast their opponents stood firm and held their ground. Try as they might, the Swedes couldn’t force the Norse centre back. A man tried to thrust the point of his spear between Lagertha’s helmet and the top of her shield but she raised the latter to deflect it, and then stabbed the man’s thigh with her sword. He screamed in rage and tried once more to use his spear. It was too unwieldy for close quarter fighting and, seeing an opening, she sunk her blade into her adversary’s leather covered chest, killing him instantly.