Varangian

by Griff Hosker

  He smiled as though he had done us the biggest favour in the world when, in reality, he had just given us one short voyage on a ship and provided an introduction to a merchant. “Thank you, King Sweyn, for your help. I wonder however if I could press you to find us a servant who can speak languages for we will be travelling through strange lands.”

  He frowned, “Men with languages do not come cheap my English friend but I shall look for one. Hopefully I can find such a one before you sail.”

  Suddenly a shrill Danish voice piped up. “I will go with them father.”

  The waiflike Eric stepped forwards. He was hardly the sort of servant I had expected. He was the son of a king and looked to have no strength. How could he possibly help us? I looked at Ridley and saw that he shared my views. The King however, looked delighted, as though the solution had been sent by Thor himself. “Excellent suggestion, my son. Does he meet with your approval Lord Aelfraed?”

  The sardonic smile playing on his lips told me that this was deliberate; he had put me between a rock and hard place. If I said no then I would be insulting the royal family. “Of course it does your majesty but it would then require me to ask if you had a servant we could employ for we have much gear and I do not think that the son of a king should have to carry our bags.” I gave Sweyn back the smile he had given me and the slight nod of his head showed me that he understood my ploy.

  “Of course we have many such men and he could act as bodyguard for my son. “ He waved over his steward and said something. “And now I will leave you two to become acquainted with Eric while we conduct the business of the court.”

  With that we were dismissed. Ridley looked as disenchanted as I did; I knew I was prejudging the boy but I could not see how he would be of use to us. Had we been staying in Danish waters then his royal connection might have been of some use but we were going much further east. I put on my ‘new man’ smile as Osbert used to call it; the smile I used when welcoming volunteers to my band. “Well Eric. Are you sure you want to do this? I suspect the road will be hard.”

  He had an eager, keen face and was always an open boy. His smile lit up his face, “Oh yes Lord Aelfraed. I have always wanted to travel and…” he glanced nervously over to his father.

  I saw the look. “Come, let us take the air, for it is stuffy in here and I would walk.”

  It was relief and something else I saw on the boy’s face. Ridley grumbled. “I’ll bet it is cold out there.”

  “Tell me Eric, what you know of the lands to the east and the peoples there.”

  He became animated, “I have never been there but I have heard many stories. The first peoples are like us but are Rus. Later we pass through the Khazar Khanate where the Mongols live.”

  Ridley looked interested, “The Mongols?”

  “They are a group of fierce tribes who ride fast ponies and use bows which can shoot great distances. They have no king, as we do but they fight under chiefs and great warriors. And then we reach Byzantium.”

  “How old are you Eric?”

  “I have seen sixteen summers, my lord.”

  “I think that we can dispense with the ‘my lord’, as I have lost my land and I am an outlaw. Besides aren’t you a Prince?”

  He shook his head happily, “No, I am a bastard.”

  He said it so cheerfully that I laughed aloud. “Well you are in good company then for so am I. Tell me Eric, why is your father so keen to send you off with us.” I held my hand up. “What you should know about me is that I prefer plain words and the truth. We will survive this journey a little happier if you remember that. I saw something in your father’s eyes which told me that he wanted you away from court.”

  “That is true. He wants me away for I embarrass him. I am not a warrior. I never have been one. I do not like the fighting and the violence.”

  I shook my head, “So you would travel with two strangers through, by your own admission, extremely hostile lands to serve two warriors who will fight for an Eastern Emperor. How does that sound to you, Ridley?”

  “It does not sound right Aelfraed. Perhaps he is a spy?”

  Eric’s face filled with colour and he shook his head violently. I could see his eyes were filled with terror; was it the terror of being left behind?

  “You are right and there will be danger but I have heard that Byzantium is a magical place with many books and many other cultures. True, I serve two warriors but when we reach our journey’s end I will be safe within Byzantium’s walls and, when you are away fighting, then I will order your house and be able to study. The journey is the risky part but I am willing to endure that to escape my prison and reach my own heaven and my own journey’s end.”

  He sounded honest but I knew that there was something else he was not telling me. However, he was being as open as he could be bearing in mind he had just met us. I suspected this was wyrd again. We had needed a translator, Cnut had told us that. The fact that he did not fit the picture we had of him was our fault not his. “Well, Eric son of Sweyn, welcome to our little group. I just hope that you father picks us a strong servant for our bags are heavy and, from what we have heard, we need to carry our boats across parts of the journey.”

  He eagerly nodded, “Aye my lord, the portages.”

  “I would ask your father but can you tell us what we would need for the journey?”

  He shook his head, “I do not yet know. But I will find out for you.”

  “Good. Had you lied to me and pretended that you knew I should have been unhappy. Always speak the truth and be honest and we will get on.”

  We wandered around the town with Eric chattering away and telling us many stories about the people and the buildings. We discovered that his mother had been a slave from the far south which explained his slight frame and his slightly darker appearance. He was the only one of Eric’s sons who had black hair and that, it emerged, had caused him to be beaten and bullied by his siblings. When he told us that Ridley and I exchanged a glance for we both knew that was my story too. The boy was very gentle. His voice was soft and it did not seem to suit the harsh words of the Danish language. He told us that he had escaped the warrior training by hiding in the local church where the priest, who had been a Saxon captured by the Danes, there taught him to read and to speak other languages. The more he spoke the more we understood why Sweyn had taken the chance to be rid of this illegitimate child who would never stand in a shield wall and would never fight for his inheritance. I did not think this to be a malicious act from Sweyn, rather the opposite, for he was doing the best he could for his son, as I had when I had left my son with the Earl of Fife, a man who might make a better fist of being a father than I had.

  By the time we returned to the warrior hall, it was late afternoon and the King’s business had been settled. His steward, Bjorn, greeted us at the door. “His majesty has found a servant for you. Come with me.”

  He led us to the thrall quarters. Outside the wooden hall were some warriors who were lounging and throwing knives into the empty wooden water butt. To one side sat a huge man. His broad back was to us but I could see that he was powerful. Bjorn was heading towards him and I began to assess this servant the king had provided. It seemed in direct contrast to Eric who seemed more like an aelfe than a man.

  Bjorn shouted over, “Ragnar!”

  When he turned around I saw that he had suffered in some battle or other. His scarred face looked as though someone had tried to hack the skin from his body. Where his right eye should have been was a patch but the deep gouge above and below showed where the blow had been struck. There was a piece of his nose missing and another savage looking scar running across his throat. He favoured his right leg slightly and I saw that he had two fingers missing from his left hand.

  Eric translated Bjorn’s words as he spoke. “Ragnar, the king has ordered you to serve his son and these Saxons as their servant. Is that good?”

  Ragnar looked suspiciously at the three of us and then wandered closely. He sta
red at me and then his face lit into a grin which showed black holes where many of his teeth should have been. He nodded vigorously.

  “Get your gear from the thrall hall and return here.” Bjorn turned to us. “Ragnar was a great warrior and served the King’s son-in-law, Gottschalk. He received these wounds over ten years ago defending the banner.” He looked sad. “He was left here when the Prince returned to his homeland and Ragnar has lived here in the hall of the thralls with nought to do. He lost the ability to speak when he was wounded and his world is now a silent one.” His eyes pleaded with me as he spoke. “Lord Aelfraed, you are a warrior and the king believes that Ragnar can still have honour in his life. He cannot stand in a shield wall but what else is there for a warrior?”

  I glanced at Ridley for confirmation of the decision I had already made. Ridley nodded. This was wyrd again. This was reminder of all the men who had died for me. I would take Ragnar with me if only to haunt me with the face of those who had fallen for me, Tadgh, Aedgart, Edward and hundreds of others. He was the opportunity to thank those who had sacrificed themselves for me. “Aye, he will do. He makes the last of our company.”

  I stood looking at the three expectant faces. Ragnar, who towered over both Ridley and myself, little Eric who looked as though Ragnar could hide him under his arms and Ridley, open honest Ridley who would follow me to the ends of the earth and beyond. I realised that I did not want us to have to spend a night in the warrior hall again for I needed to get to know my two new companions. Our journey would be long and if there was one thing I had learned about leadership it was to get to know the men on whom you depend. “Eric, we will find a tavern and stay there. Do you know of any that would suit?”

  “It will not be cheap my lord.”

  I ignored his deference. “Do not worry about money.”

  “But you will need money to buy passage.”

  “I said do not worry, Ridley and I have coin but we will not be paying money for our passage, believe me. Now a tavern?”

  He shrugged. “There is the Hawk. It is the best tavern in Hedeby and has many rooms.”

  “We only need one.”

  Eric looked shocked while Ragnar just smiled, and I wondered if hwas simple as well as wounded. “In one room! But you are a lord!”

  “And you are a prince and Ragnar is a warrior. Why waste time giving us our titles? We know who we are.”

  Ridley grinned for he knew me well. “Aye Eric we are the company of the red horse.”

  Eric looked puzzled. “Fetch our gear from the hall and it will become clear. Tell your father that we need to be together to plan our voyage and I mean no disrespect to him.” Eric nodded and Ragnar started to run after him, “Eric tell Ragnar to leave his gear here. We will watch it for him.” The grinning giant dropped his bag and loped off after the speedy Eric.

  “Well old friend they are not the men I thought we would take with us. They are not Branton and Osbert.”

  “I know but it is something to do with you Aelfraed. I was lonely until you befriended me. Remember Wolf? And Branton and Osbert were seeking a leader when we found them. No, this is wyrd. We were meant to take these with us and, who knows, they may have qualities which we need on this long voyage into the unknown.”

  Ridley rarely made long speeches and this was one of his longest. “You are right and there is something in both of them which spoke to me. When I met Ragnar I was reminded of all the men of war who do not die but have to eke out a living amongst those who are whole. Aethelward was lucky for he was a lord and rich but those who fought with us like Aedgart and Osbert had they been too wounded to fight what then?”

  He shook his head. “You have a short memory Aelfraed. You looked after those too. Remember the men who guarded and looked after our camps?”

  I nodded. I had forgotten the six men who had been too wounded to fight in the shield wall but had still served me, bravely, until they were killed in the last assault by the Normans. “You are right but Ragnar is still the walking reminder of the debt we owe our comrades.”

  When they returned Ragnar had managed to carry all of our equipment. I took from him my shield. “Do you see Eric? The Company of the Red Horse.” Now lead on.” I started to take my axe and shield from Ragnar but he gripped it and shook his head. I turned to Eric. “Tell him that there is too much for him to carry and that Ridley and I are warriors. We carry our own weapons.” Eric translated and understanding lit up Ragnar’s face. He grinned and allowed us to take our weapons and picked his own bag up.

  The tavern was comfortable and, after paying high prices in Jorvik, seemed more than reasonable. The four of us ate in the main room and I could see that Ragnar had not had the company of others for some time. It was hard having Eric translate all of our words to him and I wanted to speak with him. I knew he could not speak in reply but he had the most wonderfully animated hands and we found it easy to understand him. “Eric, you must teach us your language.”

  Eric looked crestfallen. “Why, my lord, would you be rid of me?”

  I laughed, “No you foolish young man. I would speak with Ragnar and others in their own language. It is only right. You will still be needed do not worry. Ridley and I have learned over the years that your Norns weave fantastic webs and threads. Who knows what skills you have that we know not yet?”

  “I am glad that you came to my father’s court for there they believe that a man is born with one purpose, normally to fight, and they understand no other.”

  “Without meaning disrespect to your people Eric, that is wrong. I have seen peaceful men like my old Steward Thomas fight as ferociously as a warrior for what they believe and I have seen tough warriors being gentle. We are complex creatures who make their own choices and decisions.”

  Ragnar made the gesture for Eric to translate his words and when he had finished the giant nodded eagerly to show he agreed and he took my right hand in his, shook it and then kissed it. The gesture should have been embarrassing but it was not and I nodded, “Thank you Ragnar.”

  That night the Company of the Red Horse was forged and its links were stronger than steel.

  Chapter 2

  When we sailed from Hedeby it felt like the start of a new life; Topcliffe and England were far behind us and we were beyond the reach of William the Bastard. I was now further east than I had ever been and soon I would be in unimagined lands which not only spoke a totally different language but, according to all I had heard, looked and smelled different too. We had spent the last few days before embarkation buying the equipment we thought we might need; furs, knives and short swords for Eric and Ragnar; a couple of bows, flints, water skins, the list was endless for we knew not what we might encounter. We found a Jew in the back streets of Hedeby who knew Reuben and had heard of us. We sought his advice about the journey for he was a merchant and understood such things.

  “You will need trade goods my lord, not large things but small precious things which might be used to barter rather than fight.”

  “But if they are precious how could we afford them?”

  The wise old Jew shook his head. “No my lord, you mistake my words. I meant precious to them, not to you. Well made daggers are much sought after as are pieces of jet.”

  I mentally cursed myself for back in England there had been many jet mines close to where we lived and I could have brought much of it with us. We thanked the merchant and he directed us to where we could buy such things. Thus equipped, with a new leather helmet for Ragnar we stood at the quayside. Ragnar was more pleased by the helmet than anything apart from the sword for they marked him once again as a warrior. I noticed him casting envious glances at our shields, replete with the red horse and I knew that he coveted them; once a warrior, always a warrior.

  Sweyn had come to the quay to see us off. As we waited, while the cargo was offloaded, he took me to one side. “Rather than this paying off a debt I fear it has put me once more in yours for much as my other sons dislike him I have a soft spot for Eric. He i
s like his mother who was a soft skinned beauty from the east, more used to pleasure than work. It is wyrd that my son should return to the place of his mother’s birth. The Norns must love you to spin such a web for your life.“ He became serious, “Look after Eric, he is not as other men and that is the reason I have chosen Ragnar to accompany you, for he was the finest warrior I ever knew, until I met you and Lord Ridley. Should you return, I will reward you more than I did this time,” He was almost apologetic. Sadly the old rogue died before he could redeem his pledge but I am glad that we parted on good terms for when I meet him in the afterlife I would have him tell me tales of going a-Viking.

  The captain was a roguish sea dog who looked so ancient that he could have been sailing with the Romans. His ship was old and decrepit but sailed quite well and was comfortable. He was known as Thor. I never knew his real name but I found out why he was called Thor after he struck one of his sailors who had been slow to reef the sail- he did not have hands he had hams! One blow could almost fell a man. He and the merchant, Bjorn, must have owed Sweyn a favour or two for he gladly took the four of us and we found there was an added bonus. After Uppsala he was sailing to Lake Ladoga and offloading some goods to a river boat. It gave us two opportunities to find a berth on a boat heading south.

  Thor proved to have a mine of information. For some reason he took to Eric; perhaps he thought he was ingratiating himself into Sweyn’s favour but I do not think so. It was something else; he just got on with him and liked him. That was the way with Eric; you either took to him or made his life hell. Whatever the reason, we benefited. He confirmed Cnut’s view that, as we were warriors, captains and merchants would pay us to row the waterways and protect the cargo. The fact that three of the four of us would be able to do so was an advantage.

  Eric had looked downcast at that; no man likes to be thought of as cargo, all men want to feel valued. Thor had shaken his head wisely. We had learned enough of the language to be able to pick up most of the words Thor spoke. “Eric you can read and the merchants value that for they need a record of their goods as they travel down the river. Even if you were not with such warriors as these you would travel for nothing.”