by Griff Hosker
Viking Blood
Book 16 in the
Dragon Heart Series
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd 2017
Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Cover by Design for Writers
Dedicated to Thomas and Samuel my two new grandsons, both born in 2016. Wyrd !
Book List
Ancient History
The Sword of Cartimandua Series (Germania and Britannia 50A.D. – 128 A.D.)
Ulpius Felix- Roman Warrior (prequel)
Book 1 The Sword of Cartimandua
Book 2 The Horse Warriors
Book 3 Invasion Caledonia
Book 4 Roman Retreat
Book 5 Revolt of the Red Witch
Book 6 Druid’s Gold
Book 7 Trajan’s Hunters
Book 8 The Last Frontier
Book 9 Hero of Rome
Book 10 Roman Hawk
Book 11 Roman Treachery
Book 12 Roman Wall
The Wolf Warrior series (Britain in the late 6th Century)
Book 1 Saxon Dawn
Book 2 Saxon Revenge
Book 3 Saxon England
Book 4 Saxon Blood
Book 5 Saxon Slayer
Book 6 Saxon Slaughter
Book 7 Saxon Bane
Book 8 Saxon Fall: Rise of the Warlord
Book 9 Saxon Throne
The Dragon Heart Series
Book 1 Viking Slave
Book 2 Viking Warrior
Book 3 Viking Jarl
Book 4 Viking Kingdom
Book 5 Viking Wolf
Book 6 Viking War
Book 7 Viking Sword
Book 8 Viking Wrath
Book 9 Viking Raid
Book 10 Viking Legend
Book 11 Viking Vengeance
Book 12 Viking Dragon
Book 13 Viking Treasure
Book 14 Viking Enemy
Book 15 Viking Witch
Book 16 Viking Blood
Norman Genesis Series (820-1020 A.D.)
Hrolf the Viking
Horseman
The Battle for a Home
Revenge of the Franks
The Aelfraed Series (Britain and Byzantium 1050 A.D. - 1085 A.D.)
Book 1 Housecarl
Book 2 Outlaw
Book 3 Varangian
The Anarchy Series (England 1120-1180)
English Knight
Knight of the Empress
Northern Knight
Baron of the North
Earl
King Henry's Champion
The King is Dead
Warlord of the North
Enemy at the Gates
Warlord's War
Kingmaker
Henry II
Modern History
The Napoleonic Horseman Series
Chasseur à Cheval
Napoleon’s Guard
British Light Dragoon
Soldier Spy
1808: The Road to Corunna
Waterloo
The Lucky Jack American Civil War series
Rebel Raiders
Confederate Rangers
The Road to Gettysburg
The British Ace Series
1914
1915 Fokker Scourge
1916 Angels over the Somme
1917 Eagles Fall
1918 We will remember them
Combined Operations 1940-1945
Commando
Raider
Behind Enemy Lines
Dieppe
Toehold in Europe
Sword Beach
Breakout
The Battle for Antwerp
Other Books
Great Granny’s Ghost (Aimed at 9-14-year-old young people)
Adventure at 63-Backpacking to Istanbul
Britannia 829A.D .
Prologue
I had never been foresworn before but I was now. I had sworn an oath to find Wighlek and Vibeke, the two spies who had almost cost me the lives of my son and grandson. They had cost me the lives of warriors like Snorri who had followed me for many years. They had come to our land and almost brought about the end of the land of the Wolf. I had spent the better part of a year hunting them and I had found no trace of them. I had not done as I had sworn and it did not sit well with me.
We had gone first to Eoforwic or as the Danes call it Jorvik. There we went openly for we had allies in the Saxon court. Many remembered that I had been a friend of the son of King Eanred until he had fallen foul of the Skulltaker clan who had caused so much trouble to us. We found no trace. We travelled through the land which the Danes were gradually colonising. We even journeyed into the heart of the city called Lundenwic. The lair of my enemy Egbert we had wandered its streets in disguise but found nothing. No one had heard of the old merchant and his wife. It was though the ground had swallowed them up. They were somewhere I knew that. They were clever people. They used words and not swords. I had no doubt they would have found a new paymaster for their unique skills. When I arrived home, I had felt a failure. I had promised myself and my people something and I had not been able to deliver.
I spent the winter months in despair wondering how I could face my people again. It was my granddaughter Ylva who dragged me from my pit of self-loathing. She took me, when the new grass had begun to spring, to the top of Old Olaf’s mountain top. I had not visited this lofty viewpoint for some time and I knew that Ylva had been told to do so by the spirits of those long dead.
“Come grandfather. I have dreamed and the spirits told me to take you to Old Olaf’s lofty top. I am told to guide you there.”
The two places I felt most at peace were by my wife’s grave and at the top of the mountain. I had visited neither since I had returned. My shame would not allow me. It was a wild and windy day and it threatened to sweep the two of us into the valley below. I thought that would be a fitting end for a failure such as I but my granddaughter, the witch, deserved better. She kept her arm linked in mind. Perhaps she feared that my deep depression would make me do something foolish. I would not but it was comforting to have her so close to me.
As we passed the mines where slaves toiled to bring forth copper and lead we paused to allow me to rest. I saw not the miners but just the black gullies they had carved out of the solid rock. A little iron was still eked out but the seam was almost done. We passed the sacred blue water which reminded me of my dead wife, Erika’s eyes. I always paused there to take a handful of the chillingly icy water. It was a ritual. The climb was hard and that, too, was part of the ritual. Old Olaf wanted you to work to reach the top. When you did then the view was well worth the effort. Although scudding clouds flitted across our heads you could still make out the shadow that was Man and, much further west, the land the Hibernians could be seen. Today it was a shadowy smudge. The view east was the one which warmed my heart on that chilly morning. I looked across the water of Cyninges-tūn and the barrow which contained my dead wife. Soon flowers of the new spring’s growth would cover it. Nearby lay the barrows of my Ulfheonar. The recently buried Snorri lay there. Another who had died for the clan. They were a sta
rk reminder of the price my men paid for the safety of the clan. One day I would be buried there with them. Unless, of course, I died when my men were defeated. If that happened, then my body would be despoiled and no trace of me would remain. Another would wield the sword touched by the gods and I would be another legend.
We stared from the top and she pulled me tighter to her. “Why have you brought me here, Ylva? I see the Land of the Wolf below me but I am the wolf no longer. I cannot hunt and I failed to protect my people. Is it to ask me to hurl myself from the peak and let another lead the clan?”
She squeezed my arm a little tighter, “For someone I thought so wise you say the most foolish of things. You are not a failure.” I began to open my mouth to argue with her and she pressed her long fingers against it. “Grandfather, let me speak. I have powers. I cannot see where your enemies are but I can see many other things. I have dreamed and seen beyond our valleys and mountains.”
I nodded and pulled her down to the flat tock, “Very well but let us sit. I would not have you swept from this peak by a gust of wind.”
She smiled, “I am not destined for such an end. Listen to me; those two spies are evil. They deserve to die but the world is wide and there are many places for them to hide. You wasted almost a year seeking them. The men you took could have been raising young warriors. You could have enjoyed watching Gryffydd grow. You could search your whole life and still never find them. They deserve to die and they will die but it would be a waste for you to dedicate the rest of your life to searching for them. They are not worth it. Besides I had dreamed and know that they will die at your hands. Do not seek them. They will find a way to trip themselves up and deliver themselves into your hands.”
“But what of those who died because of them?”
“You destroyed the Skull Takers. That was the revenge the dead craved.” She waved a hand around her. “The spirits have spoken to me. You will find these two but not if you search for them.”
“What?”
“Remember that I met one of the Norns and served with her. I know the way they work. Your thread and that of Vibeke and Wighlek are intertwined. You will find them. Just do not seek them.”
I shook my head, “I have had a wife with powers, my daughter and granddaughter have powers yet I do not understand the world of the spirits.”
“Nor should you for you are the Dragonheart.” She stroked my hair, “Your grey hairs tell the world that you have lived longer than any other great warrior. You are a great warrior still. The sword that was touched by the gods means that men fear to face you. Come back to the world, grandfather. Be the Dragonheart again. You are the Dragonheart and that means you are the heart of your people. Let that heart beat. If you do not seek them then you will find them.”
And so we descended and I put the two spies to the back of my mind. They were not forgotten but they did not fester as they once had. I had had my mind cleared by Ylva and Old Olaf. I knew that his spirit also guided me on that windy mountain top.
Part One
Raiders
Chapter 1
My men had been anxious about my lack of energy since my return from my fruitless search for the spies. There had been neither raid nor war. The clan was worried for I was not only the heart of the dragon, I was the heart of the clan. Men had fought, women had squabbled and the whole of Cyninges-tūn seemed to be upset by my moods. Even the cows gave less milk, the chickens fewer eggs and fewer lambs survived. Kara told me that nature was not in balance for I was not in balance. When I summoned the Ulfheonar and Aiden, my galdramenn, I spoke to them in my hall. My captain, Erik Short Toe, also came. It was after the meeting, in the days that followed, that the mood of the whole settlement seemed to lighten.
They looked at me expectantly. There were fewer of them now. War had taken them. None had died of old age or in their beds. They were all in Valhalla for they had died with a sword in their hand. Haaken One Eye was the only one of the original Ulfheonar who survived. We were like a pair of relics. Battered and worn, we had bodies covered in wounds yet we had survived. Haaken had lost an eye, had a metal plate in his skull and, following our descent into the witch’s cave, his hair had turned white! Even the younger ones were now much older. Aðils Shape Shifter was the only one who was younger than twenty five summers.
We were a rich clan and did not need to raid yet we were Vikings and it was what we did. For a year, our dragon ships had laid in their slips at Úlfarrston. Erik Short Toe had been able to watch his family grow and yet I knew that he wished to raid. And he fretted that the river was silting up. Perhaps that was my fault too. Our knarr had still traded and so we had had word from the outside world. Other than the knarr we had little connection with any beyond the Land of the Wolf. We had friends in Úlfarrston and Dyflin. We had an ally in the land of the Franks but when danger came we would be on our own.
My wife, Brigid, entered. She and the servants had jugs of ale. There were horns already on the table. She and Uhtric, my slave, poured the ale. My men tasted it and approval showed on their faces. Brigid had brewed a fine ale and my oathsworn and Aiden raised their horns to her. She smiled and she and Uhtric went back to the kitchens to supervise the preparation of the feast we would enjoy later.
They looked at me expectantly and I began to speak. “I have lost a year. Thanks to Ylva I have now realised that I was a foolish old man who was obsessed with revenge. I know that I was wrong for I should have thought of the clan and not just grieved for Snorri and the other warriors who perished because of the treachery of Vibeke and Wighlek.”
Beorn the Scout had accompanied me on my travels and he said, “Do not apologise, Jarl Dragonheart. I know that none could have looked further than we did. Save for a visit to Frankia and Dyflin I know not where else we might have looked. None here regretted your efforts to find them. It was not meant to be.”
“That is what Ylva told me and she was right. Perhaps the news I received last month may help us now. King Egbert, it seems, has defeated King Eanred. King Eanred has acknowledged him as King of the Saxons. He is Bretwalda. He now rules the whole country save for this enclave that is the Land of the Wolf.”
“How does that help us, Jarl?”
“King Eanred has sent tribute to the King of Wessex. His land is richer now. Our knarr told us that when they traded they learned he has given great quantities of gold and silver to the churches. He has sent his warriors home. They need fight no longer. His country is at peace and they enjoy the riches he has given to them. Now is the time to take it back.”
“But Jarl, Hamwic has been raided too many times and we do not have enough warriors to take Wintan-ceastre. Where else would we raid?”
“You are right Rolf Horse Killer. Hamwic and Wintan-ceastre are not the right targets but there are many churches and towns we can raid that we have not raided before.” I gestured for Aiden to speak. Aiden kept our maps and charts. He read the ancient writings and he had a mind which was sharp. He and I had spoken at length since I had returned from the mountain with Ylva. He held up the map and pointed as I spoke.
“The old Roman town of Aquae Sulis is rich. There is a large church there as well as a monastery. It is not far from the sea. We would land at Brycgstow. It is a small port on a river and it is growing. However, they have no palisade and the river there would give us shelter. The jarl and I think we could strike from there and raid the rich town of Aquae Sulis. By the time the fyrd was organized we would be back on the drekar. Instead of returning home we would sail up the Sabrina to Gleawecastre. We have heard that Egbert is building a summer palace there and he has a church already endowed. The church of the King of the Saxons will be richly endowed. And there are iron workings on the Welsh side of the Sabrina. If we have room in our holds then we can fetch back iron ore. Bagsecg is running short of high quality ore.”
I looked at the face of my men. Since Ylva and I had come down from the mountain I had been closeted for many hours with Aiden working out this plan. Kara an
d Ylva had helped me too for they both had sharp minds. I had not been the leader of the clan for a year and now I would make up for it. We had worked out a raid which would bring what we needed: iron, slaves and gold. The fact that it would put Egbert’s nose out of joint also appealed to me. He hated me for my son had taken his bride and made her his. Elfrida still lived in Cyninges-tūn. As I looked into the faces of my Ulfheonar, hersir, grandson and son I saw no dissension. I saw an eagerness to do what we did best. We raided. We were the wolves of the sea and we had kept our teeth and claws sheathed for too long.
Haaken banged his hand on the table, “When do we go, Jarl Dragonheart? For me I would go now!”
Cnut Cnutson laughed, “I thought you had a daughter to marry off, Haaken? What will your wife say it you miss that?”
He shrugged although I could see that he had forgotten that his eldest was going to marry Raibeart ap Pasgen. Raibeart was present and he smiled and answered, “If my future father wishes me to wait then I shall.”
Haaken shook his head, “No, Raibeart! I have waited long enough to be rid of one of my daughters! Yngvil d and Raibeart will be wed next week and I cannot see ‘Heart of the Dragon’ being ready before then!”
Erik Short Toe nodded, “Haaken is right, jarl. We have to caulk both her and ‘Odin’s Breath’ if you intend to take two drekar.”
“I would take three but I take it that ‘Crow’ will not be ready?” That drekar had belonged to Sigtrygg Thrandson who, along with his hearth weru and most of his warriors had been slain by the Skull Takers. It was too good a drekar to waste but none had had the heart to repair her. I saw now that my lassitude had cost us dear. We had crew enough for three drekar.
“No Jarl; Bolli has been busy making knarr for the men of Úlfarrston. They are now great merchants and sail the length of this land and beyond. Bolli needs the coin. He has a family.”
“Do not apologise for him, Erik. This is all my fault. We have six days then before the wedding. We can prepare. I will send riders to Ketil and my other Jarls and hersir in case they wish to raid.”
When they had all gone and, while Brigid and our slaves cleared the hall and prepared food, I sat before my fire with Ragnar, my grandson and Gruffyd, my son. Ragnar was a warrior now. Both he and my son had been blooded. Ragnar had inherited hearth weru from his father and they had died fighting the Skull Takers or had succumbed to their wounds in the months since that battle. Ragnar was keen to join the Ulfheonar. Having killed his own wolf he had passed that part of the test but he had yet to show that he had the other skills. Gruffyd had also killed but he was not yet a warrior. This would be the first raid he would be part of the crew. I knew that his mother would be unhappy but she knew she was the mother of a Viking and he would go to war.
