“We take her,” he finally replied. The men of both crews gave a muted cheer.
“We will hunt her like wolves hunt a deer,” Hastein continued, talking to Stig. “I’ll take the Gull farther down the bay, toward the river’s mouth. We’ll stay close to the shore. If the Frankish captain holds his present course, he will not see us when he passes. You lie here in wait. Once the Frank draws near, head out to intercept her. If she runs for the sea, it will be up to you to catch her, but I do not think she will. It should not take her captain long to realize you are faster than his ship. If he has any wits at all, he’ll turn and make for the river’s mouth. When he does, we’ll catch him between us.”
Hastein raised his voice. “And all of you, on both ships, heed this: If the trader’s crew resists, they do so at the risk of their lives. But let no man kill the Frank’s captain. He will know the river, and we will need a pilot to guide us on it in the days to come.”
We took up our oars again and got underway. Torvald steered us close to the low islands that lined the shore, always keeping a watchful eye on the crewman checking the water’s depth from the bow. With her sail lowered, the Gull lay so flat against the water as we cut across the broad swells that only the bare stick of her mast and her golden dragon’s head on the bow rose up above the height of the waves on either side. From a distance, she must truly have looked like a dragon that had swum in from the open sea, searching along the shore for prey.
“How far in toward the river’s mouth shall we take the Gull?” Torvald asked.
“A ways yet,” Hastein replied. “The closer we get to the river’s mouth before we spring our trap, the narrower the bay will be, and the Frank will have less room to maneuver.”
We rowed on a while in silence. I was bursting with curiosity to know what was happening. Apparently Tore was, too, for finally he asked, “Jarl Hastein, where is the Frank? Can you see the Serpent?”
“The trader still sails on,” Hastein told him. “I do not see the Serpent. No, wait. There she is.” Hastein watched silently for a while, then spoke again. “The Frank has seen her. He’s trimming his sail and coming about. Raise oars!” he cried, then, “Rest a bit, my brothers, while the Frank turns and heads back this way. We have come far enough. The trap is set.”
Including himself and Torvald, Hastein had crewed the Gull for this voyage with thirty-nine men, nine warriors more than were needed for the ship’s fifteen pairs of oars. Now he ordered two of the extra crew members to relieve Tore and me. They had already strapped on their helms and swords, and did not look pleased.
“Tore, Halfdan, bring your bows and come with me to the bow,” Hastein told us.
The remaining extra warriors were already there, pulling coils of thick rope from the small storage area under the raised fore deck and tying grappling irons to them. Two of them took one of the ropes back and secured it to the base of the mast. The other three remained in the bow with Hastein.
“When we hook the Frank,” Hastein instructed them, “you will board his ship with me, while Tore and Halfdan cover us with their bows. Remember, all of you, I want the captain alive.”
Hastein stepped up on the bow deck, checked the position of the merchant ship, then waved to Torvald.
“Torvald, turn the ship,” he cried. “Move us out into the bay. It is time to show ourselves to the Frank, and let him see his doom.”
“On my command,” Torvald cried. “Steer-board side back oars, port side pull. Ready! Stroke, stroke, stroke…”
Slowly the Gull rotated in place until her bow was pointed out toward the mouth of the bay. “Ready!” Torvald called, and the men raised their oars up out of the water. “Ready!” he cried again, to prepare them, then “Pull!”
All working as one, the rowers dipped their oars into the sea, then rocked back on their sea chests, pulling the long, wooden blades through the water. The Gull moved forward in uneven surges at first, thrusting ahead on each stroke and gliding more slowly in between, picking up speed until she was slicing through the waves toward the approaching merchant ship.
Watching from the bow, I could see the Serpent following behind the trader, her oars flashing in the sun as they dipped in and out of the water. The squat trader bobbed and bucked across the waves, looking slow and ungainly compared to the two sleek hunters charging through the sea toward her.
Tore, standing beside me in the bow, pointed at the merchant ship. “Look at her sail,” he said. “They are resetting it. What is the Frank doing?”
The answer came a moment later when the trader, whose course we’d been approaching at an angle from the front, veered and headed straight for us.
“Thor’s hammer!” Hastein exclaimed. “She has a doughty captain. He intends to ram us unless we give way.”
In turning toward us, though, the merchant ship had also turned closer to the wind. She started losing speed and losing ground to the Serpent, which was closing rapidly on her now. Arrows flashed in a high arc from the Serpent’s bow toward the merchant ship. I saw some splash into the sea, but others dropped down onto the fleeing Frank. The range was still too far for accurate fire, particularly from a rocking deck, but the arrows must have driven the trader’s crew into cover, for one corner of her sail began flapping, but no one moved to bring it under control.
The merchant ship was still bearing down on us and closing fast, but by now it was clear the Serpent would reach her first. The Frank’s captain was alone on her raised stern deck, crouched low against her side rail for cover, one hand on the tiller of the steering oar, the other clutching a shield close against his side.
The Serpent eased up along the merchant ship’s steer-board side. As she reached the trader’s stern, two warriors in her bow twirled grapples around their heads and let fly. The iron hooks clattered up onto the Frank’s rear deck in front of her captain, and the warriors who’d thrown them braced themselves against the Serpent’s side and hauled on the ropes, setting the hooks against the trader’s rail and swinging the Serpent’s bow toward her.
The Frank’s captain lunged forward and swung a small-axe, severing one of the grappling lines. Two arrows streaked from the Serpent and thudded into the merchant ship’s rail near the second grapple, driving him back to the cover of the stern.
A warrior climbed up onto the top strake in the Serpent’s bow and balanced there waiting to leap, holding himself steady with one hand grasping the ship’s dragon head, while others behind him hauled on the remaining grappling line, pulling the two ships closer and closer together. The rowers on the Serpent had already pulled in their oars to prevent them from being broken between the ships, and her weight was beginning to drag on the merchant ship, slowing her even more.
We were very close now. “Raise oars!” Hastein shouted. “And pull them in!” Torvald heaved on the tiller, swinging us so the Gull slid past the merchant ship on her port side. She towered above the low-slung deck of the Gull. As we passed the Frankish ship, three grapples, two thrown from our bow and one from amidships, arced out and hooked her.
The Frank was caught from both sides now. Aboard the Gull, men let their oars clatter to the deck and seized the grappling lines, pulling our ship up tight against the side of the trader. Hastein swung his shield across his back by its long strap and stepped up onto the Gull’s top strake, grabbed the rail of the trader, and pulled himself up her side. The two other warriors waiting with him in our bow did the same, while Tore and I scanned the rail of the Frankish ship, arrows nocked and ready on our bows.
Suddenly a Frankish sailor rose up above the rail. He swung a wooden mallet and smashed it into the face of the warrior climbing to Hastein’s left, crumpling him, unconscious, back onto the deck of the Gull. I pulled my bow to full draw, but before I could shoot, Tore put an arrow through the sailor’s mouth and he fell backward out of sight.
Hastein reached the top of the trader’s rail and straddled it with his legs. He pulled his shield around to his front, drew his sword, and dropped from
view, down onto the main deck of the Frankish ship. The other warrior who’d boarded with him did the same. I could no longer see them, but I heard screams of terror and pain from where they’d gone. After a few moments, the screams ceased.
By now three warriors from the Serpent, one of them her captain, Stig, had clambered onto the raised stern deck of the merchant ship. They cornered the Frank’s captain in her stern where he had no room to move, and began edging toward him, step by step, their shields in front of them. The Frank cowered behind his own shield, his eyes peering over its top edge, his right arm holding his small-axe cocked and ready behind him.
Suddenly Stig and his warriors lunged forward, smashing their shields against the Frank. As he staggered back, he swung an off-balance blow with his axe, but Stig caught it easily on his shield. The warrior beside him turned his own axe in his hand and swung it in a short, hard chop, striking the Frank on his wrist with the back of the axe head. The Frank howled in pain and released his weapon. Stig raised his sword and hammered its pommel against the Frank’s head, dropping him to the deck.
More warriors clambered up the side of the trader from the Gull, but aboard the Frankish ship all was quiet now. The fight to take her was over.
Hastein came into view again, leaning over the rail of the merchant ship. “Halfdan,” he called, panting as he spoke. “Come up here. I am going to question the Frank’s captain. I need you to translate.”
“Here,” Tore said, holding out his hand. “Give me your bow and quiver. You will not need them now.”
“Thank you,” I said, and handed them to him. As I turned and began climbing the trader’s side, Tore added, “Fetch my arrow for me, while you are on board the Frank’s ship.”
As I swung my legs over the rail of the Frankish trader, I looked down. The man Tore had shot was lying below me on the main deck of the ship. The bodies of seven more sailors lay scattered beyond him. The deck was stained with blood that was draining from their many gaping wounds. I lowered myself gingerly to the deck, and stepped carefully between the red rivulets that were spreading farther and farther with every rock of the ship.
The man Tore had killed was sprawled on his back, the shaft and feathers of Tore’s arrow jutting out of his mouth. The arrow had entered at an angle from below and pierced his skull. I grasped it just below the feathers and gave a tentative tug. It did not budge.
I wished Tore had come to retrieve his own arrow. I should have told him to. It was too late now, though. He was expecting me to get it. I did not want him to think I was afraid of blood and death.
The dead man’s eyes were open. I felt like he was watching everything I did. For a moment I considered breaking the arrow and telling Tore it was not worth retrieving, but I did not want to sully my own honor with a lie. I braced one foot on the dead man’s forehead, covering his eyes, and, looking away, pulled hard. With a sucking sound, the arrow ripped free.
I climbed up onto the elevated stern deck—much higher and larger than the small, raised deck on the Gull—where Hastein was waiting for me. Someone had thrown a bucket of water on the trader’s captain to revive him. He was propped against the side of the ship now, both legs splayed out in front of him, holding his head in his hands and groaning. A thin, watery trickle of blood ran down one side of his face, and his hair was matted with more blood where Stig had hit him.
“Tell him,” Hastein instructed me, “my name, and that I am a jarl among the Danes.”
Speaking in halting Latin, I told the Frank, “This man speaking to you is named Hastein. He is a jarl, a great leader among the Danes. You are his prisoner now.”
The Frank lifted his head when I spoke. He stared at the arrow in my hand, a horrified expression on his face. Blood dripping from it was forming a small puddle on the deck.
“Where are my crew?” he demanded, speaking directly to Hastein in our tongue. “Have you killed them all?”
“They chose to fight rather than surrender,” Hastein answered. “It was an unwise choice. It cost them their lives.”
At Hastein’s words, I thought of the bloody deck I had just climbed up from. The dead men were all simple sailors. None had armor or even shields. I’d seen no true weapons down there, just the wooden mallet, a long-handled gaff hook, and a few knives. Those men had stood no chance against experienced warriors with shields, armor, and swords. I wondered how much opportunity Hastein had really given them to surrender. If he’d spoken to them at all, I doubted they’d understood.
Hastein’s next question seemed to confirm my suspicion. “How is it you speak the language of the North?” he asked the trader’s captain. “Few Franks know our tongue, yet you speak it well.”
“I make my living by trade,” the Frank responded. “In years past, I have often sailed with cargoes to your land. I am not an enemy of the Danes. You had no cause to attack my ship and kill my crew. Jarl or no, you are nothing but a common pirate.”
By the end of his speech the Frank’s voice was quivering, and tears began to run down his cheeks. “Some of my crew had sailed with me for more than ten years,” he added.
“What is your name?” Hastein demanded.
“Wulf,” the Frank replied.
Hastein squatted on the deck beside the Frank. “I am sorry the loss of your men grieves you,” Hastein told him. “I, too, have felt the pain of such losses. There is no shame in your tears. But you say you are not my enemy. You are wrong. You are a Frank, and I am a Dane. Your kings have warred on my people in the past. It was they who made us enemies. It is your misfortune that they did so. Do not blame the Danes because we do not forget past wrongs.”
“It was not by my choosing that the Franks made war upon the Danes in times past,” Wulf retorted.
“No,” Hastein agreed. “It was not your choice. And now the Danes return war to the Franks, and that is not your choice, either. It is your fate though, and the fate of all Franks who cross our path. You cannot escape it.”
Hastein stood up again. “Did you sail from Ruda?” he asked.
“Aye,” Wulf answered, nodding his head. “It is my home. Though now I fear I shall never see it again.”
Hastein smiled. It was a cold, hard smile.
“I think you will see Ruda again,” he said. “I think you will see it soon, in fact.”
We camped that night on a long, low island near the river’s mouth. The merchant ship’s cargo included casks of wine, which Hastein distributed among the fleet. While the warriors of our army drank to celebrate the end of our long journey south, the army’s leaders—Ragnar, Hastein and Ivar—met in council around a fire Cullain had built in front of Hastein’s tent. Members of the Gull’s crew milled on the shore around them, drinking, laughing, and enjoying the feel of solid ground underfoot again. I lingered close to Hastein’s tent, listening to what they said in council. This was my first experience at war. I wanted to know what was planned.
“It has been a long journey to reach this point,” Ragnar said. “But the Gods have smiled on us. The weather held clear, and we lost no ships. I hope Bjorn has as fair a voyage when he follows us with the rest of the ships for our fleet.”
“Aye,” Ivar agreed. He was leaning on one elbow, with his legs stretched out straight beside him, drinking wine from a silver cup. “If we move very far upriver, away from the safety of the sea, we will need every warrior who was promised—and wish for more.”
Ivar drained his cup and held it out in Cullain’s direction. “More wine,” he said.
“Ivar is right,” Hastein said. “It will take the Franks some time to gather their forces. But once they do, we must be wary, for their armies can move swiftly, and they are hard fighters. I have fought them before. And we are certain to be outnumbered.”
“We must move swiftly, too,” Ivar said. “Before the Franks have time to react to our presence. On the morrow our men must spread out over the countryside on either bank of the river, and scour it for horses. Once mounted, our raiding parties can strike fast a
nd deep across the Franks’ lands. With luck, we can hit them hard and be gone before their army has time to react.”
Ragnar shook his head. “We have not come so far, with so great a force, just to pillage some villages and monasteries then retreat back to our own land. The men do expect plunder, and we will let them take it. They would be difficult to control if we did not. But we have come for more—we have come to bring war to the Franks. Their power weakens, while ours grows. We must use this opportunity while our enemies are in disarray to strike them a severe blow. We would dishonor ourselves if we fail to because we fear what the Franks might do.”
I felt Ragnar was right. We were here not only for plunder, but also to protect our homeland. Surely Hastein agreed—it was he who told us so, that night after the king’s council.
“We are deep in the land of the Franks,” Ivar argued. “When they move against us, do you expect to be able to stand and fight against a far superior force? And if we sail too far upriver, they may try to block it behind us, and cut off our line of retreat. I think it is a risk not worth taking.”
“Perhaps there is a way to lessen the risk,” Hastein suggested. “We need a secure base for our army. A base strong enough to cause the Franks to hesitate to attack, if it is defended by an army the size of ours. With such a base we can protect our ships and wait for the Franks to make a mistake. From its safety, we can make the Franks play our game, but without it, we will be forced to only react to the moves of their army. It is like playing hnefatafl. He who only reacts to the moves of his opponent usually loses.”
“This is not hnefatafl. We are not playing a game with pieces on a board,” Ivar said. “We are moving ships and men in a distant and strange land. We are in Frankia. Where would we find so strong a base?”
“Ruda,” Hastein replied.
8 : Ruda
Dragons from the Sea Page 10
