Viking Blood

by Griff Hosker

  “Monasteries?”

  “Aye Jarl. They have gardens and we smelled their incense.”

  “Then we go.” I shouted, “Rouse the camp. Leave the wounded to watch the captives. As for the rest, we march!”

  Ragnar raised himself. “We fight again?”

  “Perhaps. Wake Gruffyd. He will be annoyed if he misses this.”

  It did not take long to rouse the camp and we headed west. The weather suited us for there were clouds which hid the moon. We went in a column as the track was wide. We climbed the sandy low cliff and spied the sea and the port ahead. There was the smell of smoke drifting towards us. I smelled bread baking and heard the sound of a bell from the monastery. The monks were being called to prayer.

  As we descended towards the huts, church and hall I heard a dog barking. A Welsh voice shouted something but the dog continued to bark. I saw the glimmer of a light as a door was opened at the church. At that moment the wind suddenly shifted the clouds and the moon shone brightly in the sky. It picked out those of my men who were on the high part of the dunes. I heard a shout. I could not make it out then there was a cry and the man in the doorway fell. Aðils’ arrow had taken his life but it was too late. The alarm was given.

  “Spread out! Ketil have your men get the ore. Beorn lead them. Ulf take the monastery. Let the monks go but find any treasure they may have.” I drew my sword and hefted my shield around. I led my men towards the hall.

  Welsh warriors wear little armour. They wore helmets and their swords were not the best but they excelled with the bow. Using a shorter bow than we did they were accurate and powerful. They did not release their arrows together as we sometimes did but I saw warriors pitch to the ground as the missiles fell from the sky. It spurred on the Ulfheonar. We ran hard. Then I saw Ragnar and Gruffyd sprinting like hares. Jinking from side to side they seemed to bear a charmed life. They ran straight at the archers. Even as Leif the Banner took an arrow in the shoulder the two of them burst amongst the archers and they showed no mercy. Their new Saxon swords had been well sharpened. They used them well, slashing to left and right. The archers had no defence. Rollo Thin Skin and Rolf Horse Killer reached them and between the four of them the twenty Welshmen died. Their sacrifice had not been in vain for the rest of the village had been woken and I saw the villagers fleeing west. They would head for Cil-y-coed and Casnewydd. That meant danger. They were just a few miles away. We had to get the ore back and load it on the drekar. Would my arrogance cost us dear?

  Some of the men from Cyninges-tūn began to chase after them. “Leave them! Help Ketil carry the ore. Get back to the ship.” I went over to where Rollo and the others were searching the Welsh bodies. Aðils Shape Shifter joined us and he began to collect the Welsh arrows. “Well done to all of you! Gruffyd do not tell your mother what you did today! She will not understand!”

  Rolf Horse Killer laughed, “Then pray Haaken does not make a saga of it!”

  “When you have taken all that you can get back to the ships.”

  I led the rest of the Ulfheonar up the hill to the monastery. Ulf looked happy, “See Jarl Dragonheart not one but two of the books of the White Christ. They are decorated and richly finished. There is gold on this one.”

  “Then the raid has been worth it.” I looked down and saw that the priest Aðils had slain looked to be important. He had rings on his fingers and a golden seal. Haaken knelt to take them from the body. “We had better get a move on. Survivors escaped. They will bring help. It is a pity we cannot bring slaves for Coen. He will have to make do with treasure instead. My men and I will be the rear-guard today.”

  We marched towards our ships with our shields over our backs. The soft sand and the marram grass over which we walked sank beneath our weight but we made no sound and we would hear any pursuit. In the distance I heard a horn sound. It seemed close. I turned and peered into the darkness. I saw nothing. Sound travels a long way at night. As I turned back and looked east I saw that dawn was coming again. There was definition to the horizon and I could make out the masts of the two ships. We paused at the top of the dunes which overlooked our bay. It had been a hard climb up the last part. The many feet which had tramped up it had made it rougher than it had been.

  “We will wait here. They have enough men loading the drekar. This affords a good view of the land to the west and we can spy them when they come. Although there were just ten of us I was confident that if the Welsh came we would be able to slow them down and allow our ships to be loaded. The problem would arise if they had many horses. It was some years since I had fought the Welsh. I had taken my wife from the Welsh; she was of their people. I remembered that some of them like to ride the tough hill ponies.

  “Beorn go and ask Erik how long he needs.”

  “Aye Jarl.”

  I took off my helmet and let the morning air cool my head. Aðils said, “I see movement, Jarl Dragonheart!” He pointed to the west.

  He had good eyes. All that I saw was a shadow in the dark but then I saw the shadow draw closer. “They come. This is as good a place as any to stop them.” We were at the top of a rise and any attacker would struggle to reach us quickly.

  As the sun began to rise behind us and sent its rays west I saw that there were Welsh warriors and they were riding ponies. There looked to be twenty or so and behind them I saw a ragged line of men on foot. The men on the ponies were the danger. Beorn ran up behind us, “He has almost loaded the ore but now he must replace the deck and then reload the boat. Ketil has archers ready with a wall of shields closer to the drekar.”

  “Then go and tell them we have company. We will hold them as long as we can and then retreat to the drekar. Sound the horn when Erik and Kolbjorn are ready. Be prepared to aid us.”

  “Aye Jarl Dragonheart.”

  “Spread out. Make this hard for them. Olaf and Rolf, today your axes will be put to good use!”

  They nodded. I saw them swing their shields around to their backs to allow them to use their axes two handed. With their mail to protect them they would swing their axes in a long arc. It would take a determined rider to get close to them.

  I took out Ragnar’s Spirit and my seax. I, too, kept my shield around my back. The riders had spied us and were urging their ponies on. A shaft of sunlight glinted off their helmets and their spear points. The Welsh did not use stiraps. If they wished to fight us then they would have to dismount first. They were not the worry. My fear was that the mob of men behind them would catch up. I could not see that there were more than fifty of them and more streamed from the west. The horn we had heard had been to raise their levy. Every man who could hold a weapon was coming to get us.

  Four of the ponies were ahead of the rest and their riders hurtled up the sandy slope to get at us. At first they had purchase but then the sand began to slow them. Aðils had his bow and he loosed two arrows. He aimed not at the men but the ponies. He struck both he aimed at. Although not mortal wounds they made the ponies rear and buck. Their riders fell. The other two almost reached the top. The riders were leaning forward to help their ponies. Olaf and Rolf stepped forward. Their axes bit into the bodies of the two riders who tumbled from their backs. The two ponies, relieved of their burden and faced by bloody blades turned and hurtled down the slope. They disrupted the other riders who had to spread out. The next ten came at us in a line.

  The rider who came at me held his throwing spear over his shoulder. He would throw it at me. Without stiraps it was a waste of a throwing spear. It struck my mail but there was little force and it fell at my feet. I waved my seax in front of the pony and it swerved. As it did so I hacked deeply into the leg of the rider. I felt it grate against the bone and he tumbled down the slope. The pony ran back after its master. I sheathed my sword and picked up the throwing spear. The last of the riders were coming towards us. I threw it at the head of the leading pony when it was six paces from me. I was lucky. The pony shifted its head and the spear impaled the rider.

  The top of the dun
e was littered with dead and dying both Welsh and ponies. I heard a horn from the drekar. “Come let us go.”

  Olaf snorted, “Jarl, these Welsh are like wheat! Let me harvest some more!”

  “There is no joy in such slaughter. Besides there is nothing to be reaped from such a harvest.”

  We turned and ran down the slope. Behind me I heard a cheer. Those on foot who were less than six hundred paces from the top gave a cheer for they thought we had left because of their horses. I saw the shield wall ahead. Ketil had twenty men and behind stood Beorn with the archers. They began banging their shields as we approached and those on the drekar chanted, “Ulfheonar! Ulfheonar! Ulfheonar!”

  As we passed them Ketil said, “Get aboard, Jarl Dragonheart. We will discourage them.”

  I nodded and we waded through the water to clamber aboard. As I stepped over the sheerstrake I saw that the Welsh had wisely halted at the top of the dune. Perhaps they had thought that the handful of men I had had on the dunes had been our only men. They waved their fists impotently at us as Ketil and his men boarded their drekar. Our raid was over. Now we just had a voyage home and we could celebrate our success.

  Chapter 4

  The journey home was slow. When we were out to sea we buried our dead. It would not do to have their corpses with us for they had begun to smell. Wrapping them in their cloaks we prayed that Ran, the goddess of the sea, would care for their bodies. The warriors themselves had died with their swords in their hands and would be in Valhalla. My men were all happier when the bodies slipped into the sea. They all hated the thought of an enemy despoiling our dead.

  The drekar were heavily laden and the winds came from the east. We did not have to row too much but the wind was a lazy wind. The decks were crowded and the drekar had begun to smell. The captives had fouled themselves rather than risk hanging over the side as my men did. It made the long voyage seem even longer. We were vigilant as we passed the isle of Ynys Môn and we kept a good watch on Duboglassio and Hrams-a as we passed but their beaches were devoid of drekar. Úlfarrston was a welcome sight.

  We had fewer captives than we might have hoped but we had more treasure. With silver and iron ore we were rich. Coen greeted his brother first. Raibeart looked at me and I nodded, “Aye, get to your new wife. She will be eager to see her husband eh?”

  “Thank you Jarl.” He took a jet necklace from his leather pouch. “And I have a gift for her too!” Many of my men had collected such treasure from the Saxons. We may have let many of them go but they had paid a price to do so.

  I turned to Coen. “We have Holy Books which we can trade. You and your people can have the first choice of slaves. You know a fair price better than any.”

  He saw Astrid and the captives, “They look to be your people.”

  “They are of our blood and we rescued them. It was wyrd . We will leave the Holy Books here until we can send them to Dyflin to be sold.”

  “I have a knarr there now. She left this morning. She should be back in three days.”

  “I will return. I think I would visit Gunnstein Berserk Killer. It has been some time since I have visited him.”

  “You are your old self again then, Jarl?”

  “I am. The future looks brighter. Perhaps the joy of the ones we rescued has displaced the hate that was in my heart.”

  We loaded the ore on ponies and the other supplies we had captured. We left the slaves with Coen. I trusted him to choose those they wished to buy and to send the rest to us. I sent my men ahead with the ponies and asked Ragnar and Gruffyd to escort Astrid Mother and the other rescued captives to our home. “Take my chest too and you can clean my mail when you clean your own.”

  “Where will you go, Jarl Dragonheart?”

  “I go to speak with Bolli.”

  I went alone to the shipyard. Bolli and his men were busy finishing another knarr. They were quicker to build than a drekar and brought Bolli much coin. It was also easier to launch one. There was more space here than along the river. Perhaps the silting of the river was a sign sent by the Allfather. Where once Coen had had but one knarr now he had six and another would soon join his people’s fleet.

  He stopped working and walked over to join me. “A good raid, Jarl Dragonheart?”

  “It was and it made me realise that we need the other drekar repairing. We have four ships and we should use them all.”

  Bolli frowned, “’Crow ’ and ‘King’s Gift’ need much work, Jarl. They both suffered damage and it has been some years since they sailed.”

  “Are the timbers sound?”

  “Of course. I built them and my ships are well made.”

  “Then all that they need is work. It will not take as long as it would to build a new one would it?”

  “Of course not Jarl but it seems an expense.”

  “Sigtrygg Thrandson was a brave warrior. If we allow his ship to die then that will dishonour his memory. We sacrificed ‘Wild Boar’ for my son, Wolf Killer. I would not do the same for these ships. In time they will be the drekar of my son and grandson. If you worry about payment…”

  “Of course not. You are always more than generous and you pay on time. Sometimes merchants only pay half and wait for a voyage to be a success.”

  “It is my money and I would do this. It will be a legacy for my family after I am gone.”

  “Do not say that, jarl. You are the heart of the clan. Without you there is no clan.”

  “I am not sure that was ever true but now that I have my own children and grandchildren it is not. I ask you to make the ships a priority. Sailing the Welsh Sea and the Angle Sea I have seen much that we can take. The world is changing, Bolli. The Saxons have a High King. I would take what we can, while we can.”

  “There is one thing, jarl.”

  “Yes, Bolli?”

  “The river is silting up. It has always been a problem but the last few years have seen it worsen. We would not be able to launch a drekar in the summer. We will need to move the drekar to Úlfarrston.”

  “That is not good.”

  “No, Jarl Dragonheart. Erik and I may need to find a new shipyard.”

  “Have you a place in mind? Úlfarrston?”

  “We would have the same problem with the river. Already the channels are difficult to navigate there. We have in mind the bay a mile or two west of Úlfarrston. Whale Island gives protection to it and the water is deep enough there.”

  “Do not the knarr of Coen and his fishing boars use that?”

  “Aye, jarl.”

  “Then I will speak with him.”

  I left him to walk back to Cyninges-tūn. I knew I would not reach home before dark but I did not mind. I enjoyed my own company. It allowed me to look at the land and not listen to the idle chatter of those around me. As I walked through the forest I thought back to Bolli’s words. We could build a new drekar, we had trees which would make fine ships but the trees were part of my land. I would not waste them. When we felled them it would be because of a dire need. It took many generations to grow such fine trees. I stroked one mighty oak which had a bole so wide that two men could not have held hands around it. It stretched up to the heavens and teemed with life. I would not sacrifice another oak until we had to. Four drekar would suffice. The two which were being repaired were just threttanessa. They could be crewed by less than thirty men but if we had to then we could double bank them and they could carry fifty or more. If Egbert took exception to our raids then I wanted to be able to strike at him before he reached my lands. Wessex was many leagues from the Land of the Wolf and their ships and sailors inferior to our own.

  When I left the shipyard, and entered the forest the sun was just beginning to dip behind Old Olaf. We had less light on the Water when that happened but the dappled light as the sun moved around the rocks and crags seemed to dance upon the still, calm waters of my Water. I left the greenway and headed for the shore. I enjoyed walking along the beach. In places I would have to wade in the shallows but I did not mind. I fe
lt connected to my Water that way. I sat on an old stump and took off my sealskin boots. The chill of the waters was refreshing and I strode north.

  I was close to Thurston Island. It had been named for an old farmer who had lived there before we had lived in the valley. He had been long dead when we settled and few would live on the island for they thought it was haunted. I had never felt evil from his spirit. I stopped because I sensed something. I sensed it in my head. The light was fading and that was always a magical time. It was the bridge between day and night. Something directed my feet and I walked into the water to look at the island. Perhaps it was a trick of the light but I saw an old man with a white beard. He waved. I knew that it was the spirit of Thurston. I had never seen it before but I knew what it was. It did not worry me. The dead never did. The living could hurt me but not the dead. The spirit disappeared but I still sensed something.

  There was a rock behind me and I sat upon it. As I looked to the left I saw, in the distance, the barrow where my dead wife, Erika, was buried. Fog was upon it and it made me remember her. The fog began to move and it headed towards me. Fog did not move swiftly like this fog; it crept. Then it began to change. It started to take the shape of a figure and I knew what it was. It was my dead wife. It came towards me and she was as she had been on the day I had last seen her. She had not aged. She came so close that I felt as though I could touch her but it was an illusion. I saw her spirit. I knew that, if I closed my eyes, I would hear her voice but I could not take my eyes from her. I saw both Kara and Ylva in her. She closed her eyes and nodded. Reluctantly, I closed mine.

  ‘There is danger coming. The enemy is growing. They will come closer. Your friends grow fewer. They are dying. They seek what is yours. Keep close what is ours. Remember our home. Remember the midsummer. Remember watching the sunset and holding hands. Remember.’

  The voice stopped and, when I opened my eyes, she was gone. I waded back to the land and donned my seal skin boots. As I headed home I wondered who the ‘enem y’ were? There were many to choose for I had many enemies. My friends I could count on the fingers of one hand. The midsummer? Holding hands? There was something at the back of my mind but I could not bring it forward. My mind was too full of the raid and its success. I thought of the coming of Astrid into our lives. It was rare that we found Viking slaves. The last had been Hrolf. The last I had heard he was a jarl in the land of the Franks. When the Norns threw a slave my way it had purpose. I had begun life as a slave. Brigid, my wife, had been treated as a slave even though she was royalty. I would need to speak with Kara, Ylva and Aiden. If they spoke with the spirits then they might get a clearer answer.