I had planned on travelling to the Haugr to bring back my son but my people had need of me. As jarl they came to me with requests and they asked for favours. They brought me gifts. They sought my approval. This was especially true when we returned from a raid as everyone had benefitted. It was the middle of the afternoon before I had seen all those who wished to see me. I was heading to the stables to take one of my horses for a ride when I heard the clash of steel on steel. I found Arne, Guthrum and Ragnvald. They were practising but with the swords I had given them. I was just grateful that my wife had not seen them.
“What are you doing?”
“We would be warriors father. We practise.”
“Not with those swords.”
They all looked surprised, “Why not, jarl?”
I took out Sun’s Vengeance, “This is one of the finest swords in the land. It is my sword. It is part of me. The swords I gave you are good swords. They were warrior swords. I would not practise with my sword. I would practise with my second sword. My second sword is the same length and the same weight. It has the same balance. I made it so with the binding and lead weights. If I blunt my second sword it does not matter. If I damage my second sword I will not be hurt in battle. Until you are more skilled use wooden ones. The swords you have could hurt you.”
I pointed to my men who were also practising. They were using staves.
“See how Harold Strong Arm and Haaken the Bold use staves. It helps make you a better swordsman for you have to think of attack and defence. You can be hurt with a stave but you cannot be killed.”
I saw understanding dawn.
“You are right father. We will keep these sharp and oiled. We will make scabbards for them.”
“Good.”
“And when we get new ships’ boys can we help to train them?”
I smiled. That made sense. Einar had been the eldest ship’s boy and he had trained the others. Now these three were the most senior. “Of course. I am pleased you are taking on the responsibility.”
“Yes father, for one day I will lead this clan. I want to be the best jarl I can be.”
That night I was weary. The raid had taken more from me than I cared to admit. I had seen more than thirty summers. A raid which saw me without sleep for two days would inevitably catch up with me. Ragnvald ate with us but scurried off as soon as he had filled himself. I suspected he wished to be with Arne and Guthrum. The wet nurse had taken my daughters off and I realised why when my wife ended her angry silence and spoke.
“Why do we need to raid our neighbours? We have all that we need. It is not Christian.”
Perhaps my weariness made me shorter that I meant to be, “And we are not Christians. We are Vikings and we raid. But you are wrong we do not have enough. Our family does but our clan does not. There are farmers who have more children than they can feed. There are widows and there are orphans who need what I provide.” I darted a hand to point, beyond the wall, at the church. “And I give money to a church I never visit. Perhaps I should stop raiding and use the money I give your priests to the poor.”
She scowled at me. “That is our money!”
“And as I took it I decide how we spend it.”
She stared down at the food she had picked at. Then she raised her head, “And Ragnvald now has a sword! He will hurt himself.”
“I have spoken with him. He will not use it again.”
“You will be going to your father’s home for Rollo tomorrow. How do you know?”
I sighed, “Then I will delay my journey by a day so that I may watch over my son.”
As I lay in bed that night I realised that the curse was very real. Since Ragnvald’s birth my wife and I had argued more. It seemed she had become more Christian and I had become more pagan.
When I rose, I decided to keep my son with me. “Come we will visit Jarl Finni.”
He was in the warrior hall. He was sitting at the table when we entered. One side of his head was black and blue and the top of his head was encased in a bandage. He looked like an Arab. “Are you supposed to be up? You were almost in Valhalla. The priest barely saved your life.”
He laughed but quieter than he normally did. “He said I should not leave the hall. He did not say I should stay in my bed. Thank you Jarl Ragnvald. It was your prompt action which saved my life. Had you not come to my aid then my oathsworn and I would be dead. I owe you more than a life.”
“I was jarl. I led the raid. It was my duty.”
“And I hear we raid them again.”
“We have some months for you to heal.”
“Aye I will send to your Bagsecg for a new helmet. I would have one with longer sides.” He suddenly seemed to see Ragnvald. “And here we have the hero, Ragnvald the Breton Slayer.”
My son seemed to grow when the words were spoken. “Arne killed one too!”
“Then he should be Arne the Breton Slayer. You will be brothers in blood. There will be a bond between you. That will make you special. I can see the Allfather has picked you and Arne out. To have killed your enemies when you are so young is rare. Even the Dragonheart was older when he slew his foes.”
“Do not give him ideas, Jarl Finni. Yesterday I had to tell him not to practise with the Breton sword I had given him.”
“Your father is right, Ragnvald the Breton Slayer. Keep your weapon sheathed until you go to war. Then it will be sharp and hungry for blood. Just as we row when we have to so we rest when the gods send us a wind. Your sword should be the same.”
We chatted for a while about the men we had lost and which goods would be traded when the knarr sailed and then we left. “Is that my name now, father?”
“Men will call you that but it is your choice. Your mother will not be happy.”
He was silent. “She wishes me to be Christian.” He looked up at me but I remained silent too. It was a hard question to answer. Whatever advice I gave him would be wrong. A warrior had to do what was in his heart. “I wish to follow the old ways and there is something else.”
“Yes.”
“I prefer being on a ship rather than riding a horse. Does that disappoint you?”
“No for I think Rollo prefers the horse and the two of you will lead the clan when I am gone. This is a good thing.”
He stopped, “I am the eldest. It should be me who leads the clan.”
“Rollo is your brother and he will help you.”
“Arne is my brother. He can help me.”
“And when we need to raid where there is no river and no sea then how will you do so? Rollo can lead our horsemen.”
Ragnvald shrugged, “If it is not on a river or by the sea then I care not.”
Our conversation disturbed me. Was this the curse again? Was there a division between the boys already? They were young and they might change. I decided that I would speak with my father. His advice was known to be sage. I waited until the knarr had sailed and I was certain that Ragnvald had heeded my words. Jarl Finni’s naming of my son seemed to have been taken up by the rest of the clan. He and Arne were the only ones who were not yet warriors to have such a title and the younger boys flocked to be with them. It was the start of Ragnvald’s own oathsworn. He and Arne became very close. I often heard people talking of a new Dragonheart and Haaken One Eye. As I rode to the Haugr I reflected that this was not necessarily a good thing.
I called at the hall of Rurik One Ear. I had not seen one of my father’s oldest friends for a long time. I also valued his advice. His wife Agnathia met me at the stables when I dismounted, “Ragnvald Hrolfsson it is good to see you but I must warn you that my husband is not a well man. Do not be surprised at what he does or says.”
“Why, what ails him?”
She smiled. My father had said that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was both a kind woman and a firm one. Rurik needed both in equal measure. “He is old but he has the coughing sickness and he does not see as well as he used to. It is not that. It is that he does not remembe
r as well as he did. We know it happens to all but there are warriors he does not remember. Do not be offended if he does not know you.”
I smiled, “He is like an uncle to me. No matter what he says I will not be upset.”
I regretted my promise when I was taken to his chamber. He lived in a stone building built by the Franks. He had a room with a window. When we entered a servant left. There were shutters to keep the warmth in during winter and, as we walked in, light shone on the bed. I was shocked. Rurik One Ear had been a big warrior. My father had teased him as he got old about his size. He had not gone to war for as long as I could remember. Now he looked like a skeleton.
His eyes opened as I passed before the light from the window. “Is that you Hrolf? It is good to see you.”
I sat on the bed so that he could see me closer, “No, it is his son Ragnvald.”
I saw him concentrate and try to remember, “Hrolf has a son? You look like him. Do you ride a horse too? He is Hrolf the Horsemen. The Franks fear him.”
I looked up at Agnathia who had sat on the other side of him and was holding his hand. She nodded and smiled.
“Aye I ride a horse. I have just raided the Bretons.”
He looked at me sadly, “I will not raid again. I was a warrior once you know. Rurik One Ear. Your father and I lived…” he shook his head, “I cannot remember.” Tears came into his eyes and he looked fearful. “Why can I not remember?”
“It was Raven Wing Island.”
He smiled, “Aye you are right.” He reached up and squeezed my hand. “Erik One Arm and your father were there and we saved the island for the clan. Then I was a warrior.”
He began coughing and I saw blood on his lips. Agnathia said, “He is tired and he will sleep now. I have a draught for him.”
I stood, “I will tell my father to visit with you.”
Rurik’s eyes were closed and he murmured, “That will be good.”
Once outside she said, “Thank you for that. He remembered more than I thought he would.”
“It is sad to see him thus.” I hesitated. “You know to keep his sword by the bed?”
She nodded, “He is a warrior and he would go to his Valhalla. When I am not there a servant waits by his bed. We will give him his sword when his time is near. Tell your father to come soon or it will be too late.”
“I will.” As I rode north I realised that all of the warriors I had grown up admiring were getting old. How much longer would my father have? When I was young I had believed that my father would live forever. Now that I was older I realised that was not true. My father’s remaining years would be counted on the fingers of my hands.
Rollo had seen me from a distance and he raced up to my horse, eager to tell me of his adventures with his grandfather. There would have been a time when I could have picked him up and hugged him. Now he was almost as tall as me. I had missed him and I embraced him. He began chattering away like a magpie and I watched my father walk towards me. I knew he was a little younger than Rurik but now he suddenly looked much younger. Rurik had given up his warrior ways. My father never had. He still rode each day and he still practised with his weapons. He could still send an arrow almost as far as I could.
“You have come too soon, my son. I hoped for half a year with this young one. He makes me feel young again.”
“And I have missed him too, father. He lights my days. I will stay awhile for I have much to tell you and we need to speak.”
He was not Rurik and nothing escaped his notice. “Rollo take your father’s horse to the stable and then join us in my tower.”
“Aye grandfather.”
My father’s home had a stone wall and two towers made of stone. He had a room with a window in the one which faced north west. He told me that he liked to look that way. Many leagues and two oceans away lay the Land of the Wolf. That was where he had become a warrior and he had never forgotten it. As we walked to the tower he said, “What concerns you, my son?”
I quickly told him about Rurik. I would tell him of the raid when Rollo was there.
He shook his head. “I have put off visiting him and that is wrong. I will go tomorrow. Will you and Rollo come with me?”
“We will but I will not take Rollo in. I fear it would confuse old Rurik. He thought that I was you.”
He smiled, “I take that as a compliment.” We entered the small room. There were two chairs and a table. It was simple. The light made the room feel warm, even without a fire. The shutters could be closed when it was night time or there was a storm. It was cosy and I envied him his refuge. I wished that I had one.
I spoke of Mathilde and Benni’s Ville until Rollo arrived, breathless. I told them both of our raid; Finni’s wound and the attack of the Bretons. Rollo said, “I would have fought alongside my brother!”
“You are too young yet. Peder was just a little older than you and he died.”
“But he was not your son. He was not the grandson of the Horseman! He was not as big as I am.”
I looked at my father. There was pride in his eyes at my son’s words. “But you prefer a horse to a ship.”
“I do not mind ships.”
My father said, “Rollo, do not say something just to impress your father. You told me that you would rather lead men from a horse than a drekar. That is what is in your heart. Do not deny what the Allfather has made.”
“You wish to be a horseman?”
He nodded, “I like horses. I have enjoyed these days with grandfather. He has taught me much about riding already.”
I nodded my approval. My father said, “And now we had better see your mother or she will be unhappy. You are her only son and she does not see enough of you!”
Mother made a fuss of me. She had much in common with my wife. She too was a Christian who disapproved of our raids and so I did not bring that up. Instead I stayed on safer ground and told her of my daughters and Rurik’s ill health.
“I like Rurik. He is rough and he is bluff but there was never a more loyal supporter to the two of us on Raven Wing Island. With Erik gone as well as Sven and Harold our past is fading. We should go and visit with him.”
“I would make it sooner rather than later.”
“Then on the morrow we will go. But I feel rude leaving you here.”
I smiled, “Rollo and I will amuse ourselves. I will enjoy drinking Brigid’s ale. She is still a fine ale wife?”
“Aye she is.”
“Good, then I will drink and see the land of my birth. It has been some time since I visited Bárekr’s Haven and ridden this land.
My mother had been the daughter of a Frankish lord and she liked to do things properly. We did not just have a meal, that night, we had a feast. My father had been brought up a slave and he preferred simpler food but he smiled and endured the fuss. What was hard was keeping the subject of war from the table. Rollo was eager for news of the raid and I managed to evade his questions. When my father and I were alone we would be able to talk at greater length.
With a large candle to light us we sat in his tower and drank ale warmed with a poker and infused with spices and butter. Four years since we had raided the lands of Al-Andalus and captured a shipment of spices. We had only sold half and the rest we enjoyed. I told my father of my worries about Ragnvald and the curse. He was silent.
“Speak father. There should be no secrets between us.”
“I should have told you this secret five years since. I am sorry for not doing so.”
“Five years ago?”
“After your wife lost the child in childbirth I feared it was because of the curse.” I nodded. “When you visited us, I paid Old Seara to put a spell on your wife and your unborn child. Rollo was born healthy as were your daughters. She said she could do nothing about Ragnvald. It would take a more powerful witch than she. Now that she is dead…”
“But he may not be cursed. Look how he and Arne defeated and killed two warriors. Perhaps that means the curse is lifted.”
&nbs
p; “A curse of the Mother?” He shook his head. “There is but one who might do it and that is the Dragonheart’s daughter, Kara.”
“That is a long voyage.”
“There is more. Since he has been with me your son has told me how Ragnvald hurts him. At night, when they are alone he tries to frighten him. Sometimes Rollo is awoken by his brother hitting him.”
I remembered the incident on the drekar. “When I get home…”
“You will say nothing. From what you say Ragnvald is now a hero to the other boys. What kind of life will he have? Ragnvald may well be cursed. There may be something in him… I know not what. There could be a seed. The priest should not have witnessed the birth. We are being punished. All I know is that Rollo wept when he told me what his brother had done. They were tears of shame. Your son is unhappy.”
I was a bad father. I had not noticed. “What do I do then?”
My father was wise and he sighed, “If you leave him with us for a while we can fulfil his dream of becoming a horseman. Gilles and Bertrand live close by. He could learn about horses. He could serve as a squire to Hugo Strong Arm. Other young boys serve. They groom horses and help my horsemen to keep their equipment in good order. It gives them discipline.”
“What will his mother say?”
My father laughed, “The same thing as your mother! She would not approve. Do you want your son happy or unhappy?”
“You are right. I will speak with him in the morning. I can see why you had but the one son.”
“That was not my choice. That was the Allfather’s. I often wonder what might have happened had the priest not witnessed his birth. Would the Mother have sent you only daughters as she did with me?”
I felt a chill run down my neck. It was nothing to do with the evening. When I had allowed the priest to watch my son’s birth I had thrown a stone in to a pool. The ripples were still rolling. The curse was not yet over.
My parents left early to visit with Rurik. Hugo and his men escorted them. I thought how fine they looked in their dark blue cloaks with the silvery white cross on their shields. We mounted two horses and rode, first to Bárekr’s Haven. I liked to visit the port. I thought it a better anchorage than the Haugr. For one thing it was easier to navigate and, as it was closer to the headland it was easier to find a wind. After we had visited with the men I had known as boys and spoken of families and friends long dead we headed for Ċiriċeburh. Bertrand, who ruled there, was a Frank. He had never raided with us on a drekar but he led fifty warriors who were all mounted. They represented the largest single body of horsemen we possessed. If we were to raid Cancale by land then I needed him and his horsemen.
Brothers in Blood (Norman Genesis Book 7) Page 5
