by M. K. Hume
Ivar Hnaefssen remembered his vows, even though scouts warned him that Anglii warriors were massing on the frontiers of his own lands. His youngest son, Vermund, led a force of thirty men who had been split between the two promised ships. Stormbringer met the young jarl personally on the shelving beach, embraced him warmly, and welcomed him to The Holding.
“I know how important your thirty good men are to your father at such a perilous time as now. The frontiers are boiling with tension and our king is far away in his thoughts, if not in actuality, so he won’t move to warn off any aggressors. Your assistance is a matter of great importance to the Dene people—and we thank you and your father, who is a true man of honor.”
“I was angry at first when my father ordered me to come here. I believed he was trying to protect me from the Anglii warriors that are certain to cross our borders.” Vermund examined his toes with a shamefaced expression. “But my father took pains to show me that the debt was owed. How can we expect aid from other jarls if we show no loyalties ourselves? I am here as his representative and as proof of his personal regard for you. We are hoping that you and yours will respond in turn if, as is almost certain, the Anglii enter our lands and we require assistance.”
“There’s no need for oaths or high-flown language between men of honor, Vermund. It only requires a handshake between you and me. If you need my help, I’ll come, as will my kin, in answer to any call for assistance from your clan. Although I’m a Sae Dene, we are both jarls and our oaths are iron-clad.”
Vermund saw the sincerity in Stormbringer’s eyes and was comforted. He had feared to leave his father’s lands, for Ivar had grown old and his two other sons were not the warriors that their father had been. However, his brothers were more than able to obey the orders of their sire and would fight to the death to protect their broad acres. Stormbringer’s oath convinced him that this man would always keep his word. They would be assisted by the Sae Dene if the Anglii, or the Jutes, attacked their lands in force.
The men embraced and walked up the long, shelving beach. For Vermund and Valdar Bjornsen, the point of no return had passed.
Frodhi kept his word and ten ships arrived, fully armed with crews and fighting men loyal to their master, although Stormbringer’s cousin remained at Heorot.
Stormbringer understood his cousin very well and the duties that kept him there. As a member of the ruling family, he was bound to the Crow King by the sacred oaths and responsibilities of kinship, so Frodhi was caught in a moral dilemma. To send ships and men to another kinsman was a betrayal of sorts, but Frodhi had chosen to do so, while refusing to give the public support that his own presence would have excited.
Stormbringer had called to his other kinsmen and they responded to his summons. As well, neighboring jarls from the islands between Heorot and Skania measured their safety by the distance across the small body of water called the Sound. When their loyalty to Hrolf Kraki was measured, they found that the peril from Geat aggression was more pressing than abstract issues of loyalty. Any fool could see that if Skania fell, then so would all the Dene Islands along the Sound’s narrows. The Crow King could afford to be high-handed from the safety of Heorot, but the island jarls looked towards Gothland with jaundiced eyes.
And so, once forty ships had been assembled and every spare patch of land at The Holding was groaning with armed warriors, Stormbringer decided that the time for action had come. Calling Arthur and Eamonn to him before commencing his council of war, Stormbringer asked the Britons to declare their intentions.
Arthur looked at Stormbringer blankly. “I’ll fight alongside you, Stormbringer. You’ve treated us like guests, rather than captives, and you’ve saved our lives on a number of occasions. We’re not fair-weather friends! As much as Hrolf Kraki owes you a debt for your bravery, so do we owe debts of honor to you for your generosity towards us.”
Arthur grinned. “I must sound very formal, but you bring this stuffiness out in me, my friend.” He began to laugh at the surprised expression on the face of the Sae Dene. “Personally, I’d follow you anywhere out of loyalty and friendship, but I have practical motives as well. You hold the keys to our return to Britain, so I’d be a fool to spurn any endeavor to which you have committed your men and your word. Besides, Hrolf Kraki is no friend of mine. But for your intercession, he would have killed my sister out of hand. He refused to accept our victories in single combat and he refused to accept us as equals. I have no loyalty towards the Crow King and would willingly do him harm, if I had such an opportunity.”
“Well said, Arthur,” Eamonn agreed. “I agree with you and I will also be traveling with you to Skania. We don’t know where we’re going, but I’m sure you’ll eventually tell us.”
“And we’d be grateful if our sisters could be kept safely at The Holding,” Arthur added.
“Of course, Arthur! Both your sisters are welcome to stay for as long as they wish.” Stormbringer was very serious, as if he was embarrassed.
Wisely, Arthur said nothing.
The day of departure came with many tears. Because they had wailed at the sight of their father cleaning his weapons, Stormbringer’s daughters were chided gently by their aunt, so the little girls tried to control their sobbing. Some of the older women also wept to see their sons depart, but theirs was a restrained grief.
As the warriors moved towards the beach, Maeve came running, her arms filled with daisy chains. Gently, she crowned Eamonn, then her brother and, finally, she asked Stormbringer to bend his head. Quickly, before he could change his mind, she placed the last daisy crown upon his amber curls.
“Hail to our Three Warriors of God! You do His good work—and so you will come safely home to us. We love you!”
Her words were lost in the wind as Stormbringer and the Britons trotted to Sea Wife and joined with the rest of the crew as they pushed her keel back into deeper water. Once they had clambered aboard and hurried onto their rowing benches, the warriors put their shoulders to the oars and the ship turned and shot away as it gained some assistance from the light breeze. As they left the cove and entered the waters of the Sound, the sun was sinking slowly into the sea.
Somehow, Arthur and Eamonn both lost their daisy chains while they were rowing vigorously away from the shore, but Stormbringer stood beside the rudder and removed his crown himself. As Arthur watched surreptitiously, Stormbringer lifted the string of daisies from his tangled hair, held them briefly to his nose and his lips, then placed them inside his clothing so that the bruised blossoms rested over his heart.
Ahead of the fleet, the land had fast become a darkened spool before them, except for the glow of moonlight on the white beaches. On Stormbringer’s order, the fleet turned to port, and the forty ships began their long, slow prowl up the coast of Skania.
When Arthur had asked Stormbringer for their destination, the captain had explained that while the centers of both the Fervir and Hallin clans were close to the Sound, these tribes had already been betrayed and their populations had been overrun by the Geats. To the north, the Vagus River cut deeply into the landmass, and this fast-flowing flood emanated from a great inland lake called Wener. Years earlier, the Dene had fought a decisive battle against the Geats on the margins of this lake, and their success had won them a large stretch of land that extended from the confluence of rivers in the north controlled by the Ragnaricii clan to the southern tip where the Bergio clan held sway.
“Is there a great town at the entrance to this lake?” Arthur asked.
“Town is too large a description! It’s a village that comes to life in the spring and summer when the king and favorites among the court and his army arrive for a time of feasting when war is no impediment to their pleasure. We describe the place as Västergötland, the name of a province taken from the Geats who inhabit this rich area. It’s populated by farmers and a few rich traders who live near the confluence of the Vagus and Lake Wener. In spring
and summer there are markets and trading houses that enrich the township.”
Eamonn cocked his head sideways and grinned disarmingly at Stormbringer. “So the Geats finally became sick of the Dene controlling the west coast of their country, not to mention being so close to their richest and most favored army bivouac! The Geat king must flinch whenever he swims in his lake for fear of Dene arrows being trained on him.”
His observations were only marginally short of rudeness, so Arthur’s cheeks flushed at his companion’s tone and effrontery.
Fortunately, Stormbringer chose to overlook Eamonn’s slip in manners. “Of course! But we have always feared attack from our backs, so we have ensured we have a strong and self-sufficient colony behind our flanks. We don’t want to control all of Gothland—just a coastal strip that will always be a strong buffer between two warring races. As yet, we’ve kept to our part of the bargain for more than four hundred years.”
“He’s caught you fairly, Eamonn,” Arthur retorted. “Why would the Dene attack the Västergötland? It’s upriver, and we’d be surrounded by hostile warriors.”
“We have traded with Västergötland for generations, and we’ve lived side by side with them. Up to now, the Geats have ruled the game on this campaign, but we must take back the initiative that we previously held. Unfortunately, the Geats are caught between the Swedes on the east coast, who are hostile and aggressive, and the kinsmen of the Dene, who inhabit the lands along the west coast. I understand their anxiety about any aggression from either side, but we were their allies in the past. And now they have broken their solemn oaths.”
Stormbringer’s upper lip twitched with the contempt he felt for all oath breakers.
“Our only hope for success is to attack their precious lake settlement, the one we let them keep so long ago until they decided to use guile to turn on our people and destroy them. A victory by our forces at Västergötland would bring hope to the Dene towns in the south and turn the Geat conquest into a retreat towards their own lands.”
“People who fight for their lands are never easy to defeat,” murmured Eamonn. He was still pushing his luck, but Stormbringer seemed undeterred.
“We Dene have nowhere else to go, Eamonn. We have always been prepared to remain inside our old borders. But we are willing to fight for this strip of land, so let’s see who is the most desperate. Will it be the Geats with their thousands of acres, or the Dene whose total kingdom would fit into Gothland many times over? Don’t misjudge these people. They look like us, and they sound like us. But, in fact, they are not Dene!”
“So?” Eamonn was genuinely confused now.
“We took their land as a springboard for further expansion of our kingdom, but we never sought more land than we needed. We are little different, but the Geats love battle and power even more than we do, for we are reminded of the ancient days in Opland when our people suffered in the snowy wastes.”
“I acquit you of any hubris or self-delusion, Stormbringer, but don’t ask me to believe that Hrolf Kraki and his poisonous woman wouldn’t steal the whole wide world if they thought they could get away with their treachery.” Eamonn’s voice had a nasty edge to which Stormbringer finally responded.
“Thank you, Prince Eamonn, I’m forever in your debt for stating the obvious.” Stormbringer managed a serviceable, if sardonic, bow. “Your personal approval is very important to the Dene people.”
“Do shut up, Eamonn! You’re making a fucking ass of yourself,” Arthur warned his friend, while cuffing him lightly across the right ear for good measure.
“Ow!” Eamonn yelped. “That hurt, Arthur!”
“It was supposed to,” Arthur retorted.
“Enough, Arthur, for I can understand Eamonn’s doubts,” Stormbringer added. “After all, neither of you would be here if the Dene weren’t under constant pressure to expand their lands. Still, Eamonn, I’d prefer that you thought well of my people and were prepared to fight for our cause with a whole heart.”
“You’d have that oath anyway, Stormbringer, even if I believed your cause to be wrong,” Eamonn replied quickly. He looked puzzled at the idea that his opinion could matter at all to the tall Sae Dene.
The longboats cut through the water at an amazingly fast pace, but the warrior atop the sail called out an alarm when he spotted a warning beacon on a distant headland. While the other longboats moved through the early, still-darkling morning, Sea Wife lagged a little behind so that Stormbringer could monitor other beacon fires being lit along the coast as the passage of the fleet was plotted.
A small craft crossed the bows of Sea Wife at speed almost before Stormbringer’s crew noticed its presence. Leaf-shaped and narrow from stem to stern, there was only room within her elongated shape for four rowers, while a simple sail had been provided to extend her range. On this Eamonn could see that a white swan with a roughly sketched crown around its crest had been daubed.
“Who goes there?” Stormbringer roared. “Identify yourself or we’ll run you down.”
A voice drifted up from the craft. The warriors sat at their rowing benches, poised to act immediately that the ramming order was given, while Stormbringer walked slowly to the prow and showed himself.
“Who enters the waters of Ingeld Sea Sweeper, master of the coasts of the Hallin?” The voice was arrogant, so Stormbringer raised one hand to give the attack order.
“Wait, Captain! Wait! We are the servants of Ingeld, but he’s in hiding with what’s left of our people in the caverns in the southernmost reaches of our lands. We’ve been overrun by the Geats, and I thought you might have been a part of their fleet passing northwards to wipe out our last defenders along the Vagus River. I apologize if I’ve misjudged you.”
“What is your name?” Stormbringer shouted back. His temper was stretched tight by the seaman’s prevarications and the danger of their discovery. The whole invasion could be at risk!
“I’m called Hoel, the Ship-Singer, so I beg your pardon for any rudeness. But sir, I should remind you that your ships are the strangers in our waters.”
“Aye! And your beacons have announced our presence to the enemy more effectively than a personal announcement at their main camp. I’m Valdar Bjornsen, the Stormbringer, and I have come in answer to the call of Leif, the Sword of Skandia. I was at Heorot when his emissary arrived in search of aid from Hrolf Kraki, King of the Dene. So I have come with forty manned ships to make the contest against the Geats more even.”
“Thanks be to Loki then! And to Thor!” His companions cheered with gusto, and Hoel’s face was split in a grin so wide that his face seemed to be divided into two parts.
“The warriors of our master, Leif, are confined within a narrow triangle of land that is bounded by the Vagus River, the sea, and a smaller tributary of the river. They can’t advance or retreat, so the Geat leader, Olaus Healfdene, has left a small force to starve them into submission. Olaus has camped at Västergötland, where he and his army are growing fat on the wealth that has been stolen from our people.”
Hoel spat over the side of his vessel into the oily sea.
“You’re late in coming, Stormbringer. Our women have been raped and our children are dead. Our acres are blackened, our boats have been burned, and our horses have been stolen. But you have come, nonetheless, and you give heart to an old man. I had readied myself to flee to the west, but now I’ll gather together what men and vessels I can and I’ll meet you at the Vagus River. I’ll send couriers to the north and explain that relief is at hand.”
“And you will be welcome!” Stormbringer pointed to the line of warning fires that marched into the north. “But take care that your couriers aren’t captured, or we’ll be defeated at the Vagus before we arrive. Can I depend on you, Hoel?”
“Aye, master. You’re well named, for you bring the storm with you and, if the gods are kind, those raging winds will blow Olaus Healfdene away like straw in
the tide. Fare thee well, Valdar Bjornsen.”
Without waiting for an answer, Hoel released a rope, the sail filled, and the small boat sprang away like a hunting hound released from the chain. Within moments, the elegant little craft was a dark sliver in the gold-tinged world of waves as the sun began to rise on the first day of war. The sail, with its crowned swan, rode above the waves as if it flew on the breast of the morning wind while, on the prow, a small figure raised one hand in triumph and salutation.
“That ship is a beautiful thing, Stormbringer. I would consider myself a fortunate man if I possessed a larger version of her. Hoel Ship-Singer must be a master craftsman.” Arthur followed the track of the vessel until it was hidden behind the headland with its blazing beacon.
“He’s a master builder, so perhaps he’ll sing you a ship one day, if we should prevail in the coming battle. All things are possible under Heaven.”
“I doubt I’ll ever be able to afford such a beautiful ship—and certainly not here in Skania. I could have her if I were at home in Britain, although I don’t know what I would do with a lovely vessel like Sea Wife or Loki’s Eye in Arden Forest. The nearest water to Arden is a five-day trek on horseback.”
The Sae Dene captain smiled politely, and Arthur remembered that he had seen the east coast of Britain firsthand and that sighting hadn’t always been in the most generous of lights.
Stormbringer issued a series of rapid-fire orders to his crew. Then he returned, his face calm but grave, and Arthur felt a frisson of concern.
