Thora froze in place, afraid that even the smallest movement would send him into a retreat. “Are you saying…?”
“That I’ll join you? Yes, I’ll join you. Send me word when you’re further along in your planning. For now, let’s celebrate.” He led her through the door back to the hall where he pumped his fists above his head and his men sent up a head splitting cheer.
Thora, uncertain of what just happened, numbly made her way to Bjorn and Rúna, who were seated at a table with several burly and grimy men.
Bjorn clapped her shoulder as she sat next to him. “I take it you were successful,” he laughed as he lifted his tankard and winked as he handed one to her.
Thora nodded and stared down into the tankard of golden mead. “I’m not sure how. He gave me his reasons for why he shouldn’t, I didn’t have much of an answer for him, and yet he agreed anyway.”
Bjorn shrugged. “Sometimes, it’s as simple as asking.”
As she drained her tankard, Thora hoped he was right and that she could convince the other two jarls as easily.
CHAPTER 12
Thora turned on her feet to keep her opponent in sight while wiping blood from her lip with her sleeve. Her head and face pounded and her ribs ached from the blows she took, but she ignored the pain. There would be plenty of time to rest later. She shifted her grip on her axe, positioned her shield, and waited for him to launch himself at her. The man smirked as he played to the crowd, raising his hands in the air to get them to cheer.
He turned his back on her more than once as he engaged the crowd, but Thora waited. She wouldn’t allow this contest to be soiled by the claim she attacked her opponent when he wasn’t ready. She needed to win, and she needed that win to be fair. This wasn’t how she planned to convince Njal to join with her, but this was the way he chose for her to prove herself worthy.
“Can you believe our jarl wants me to dispatch this…child? And a female child at that!” Erik the Dark made a show of accepting the crowd’s sympathy as he placed a hand over his heart and bowed to them before he turned to face Thora. “Are you ready to end this now, girl?”
She smiled and shook her head. “That’s a lot of talk from a man losing more blood than I am.” She let her eyes roam from his bruised face to the slashes on his arms and chest. All from her.
Erik’s battered face turned a darker shade of red, making the purple of his bruising appear black. Thora squared her shoulders, planted one foot, and bent her knees. She offered up a silent prayer that the small, packed stones of the thoroughfare below her feet was dry and provided decent traction. She shut out the distraction of the crowd pressing in around them and kept her focus on the task at hand. The moment Erik lunged at her, she jumped to the side and dodged his axe. Before he could gather himself for another lunge, she swept his foot out from under him with her axe while leaning into his back with her shield. When he went down, he rolled and landed on his back. Thora was on him with her axe at his throat before he could defend himself. She looked up and waited for the tall red haired man to make his decision.
Jarl Njal nodded. “Let him up. You win.”
Thora stood and held her hand out to Erik. He pushed her hand away and stood up on his own. His brown eyes burned into her as he spit onto the ground, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.
Thora stood before Jarl Njal, who stood a short distance away, watching him intently for any indication of his answer. Njal was the second of the three jarls Thora needed to visit to secure the necessary alliances to take on the Irish. Hagen promised to send men when Thora was prepared to launch an attack against Donnchadh mac Briain, but Njal was proving to be difficult to convince. So far, he was the only one who required Thora to prove her skills in a one on one battle. She hoped Harold wouldn’t need a show of physical prowess in order to decide if he should join the alliance. She would have over two days to rest on the journey from Waterford to Limerick to meet with Harold. The trip wasn’t not nearly long enough to heal fully from her skirmish with Erik, but if Harold did want her to fight, she would be ready.
Njal turned and walked through the doorway of the mead hall without a word. Thora glanced at Bjorn and Rúna, who both shrugged. Bjorn jerked his head to the side, motioning for her to follow Njal. As Thora stepped toward the hall, the crowd parted to allow her passage. Inside the doorway, Thora glanced around. The hall was massive, yet the inside was simple. In a densely populated town like Waterford, the jarl needed a large building to conduct his business and accommodate as many of his people as possible. Unlike Hagen, Njal apparently didn’t feel the need to announce his wealth through public displays of gold and silver. Long tables stood in rows perpendicular to the dais where Njal now sat. With only Thora and Njal in the hall, the place had an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the room to stand in front of the dais.
“I find it hard to believe that a scrap of a girl could best Odinkar, let alone one of my warriors, and yet I saw the latter with my own eyes.” Njal drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair. The sound of his fingers chased the echo of his deep voice around the open space. His green eyes held a small degree of contempt, but a small smile played on his lips. Thora wished that was the first time she’d been talked to in such a way, but it wasn’t. Hagen had similar sentiments he felt obligated to share with Thora when she visited him. She swallowed the insult, knowing full well it wouldn’t be the last time someone spoke to her in a dismissive way.
“You’re not the first to say that, but I assure you, I did win in my challenge against Odinkar, and it was a fair fight. I was raise by Svein and trained by Bjorn.” She motioned to Bjorn, who stood a short distance outside the doorway with Rúna. Bjorn crossed the threshold and tilted his head.
“You, Bjorn the Death-Bringer, trained her?” Njal raised a single eyebrow. When Bjorn nodded, he laughed. “It’s no wonder she defeated Odinkar and Erik then! She had the unfair advantage of having the best teacher! They never stood a chance.”
Thora smiled at the expected reaction. Having known Bjorn her whole life, it was easy to forget the reputation and nickname he’d earned as one of the fiercest warriors in southern Ireland. While he had been her trainer, and continued in that role even now that she was jarl, he was also the man who played silly games with Thora and her sister Aesa when they were children. Before she knew him as a strong warrior, he was her fun loving and gentle “uncle”. To everyone else, Bjorn was a fearsome opponent. The Death-Bringer. The name didn’t hold the same spellbinding effect over her as it did for others because she was more familiar with the loving side of Bjorn, though she had no doubt the name was well earned. “I suppose they didn’t. So, you see, joining forces with me to break Donnchadh’s dominion over us is not a foolish endeavor. I assure you, I am quite serious in achieving a successful outcome.”
Njal stroked his thick flaming red beard and pursed his lips. “You said before Donnchadh had an alliance with Odinkar, and that alliance was used to attack your village?”
Thora nodded at the summary of their conversation before her match with Erik the Dark. “As I said, Odinkar tried to use his alliance with Donnchadh to have his army wipe out Odinkar’s opponents.”
Njal shook his head and slammed his hand on the armrest of his chair. “I knew Odinkar was a viper, but I had no idea he’d stoop to such a low point as to arrange an attack on his own village.”
“It was more than one attack. He arranged the attack that also killed my family.”
Njal wiped a hand down his mouth and fidgeted with the end of his beard. “You got your revenge against Odinkar for that, I see. Now it’s Donnchadh’s turn?”
Thora nodded.
Njal stood and paced behind the chairs at the table on the dais. “I can respect the position you find yourself in, and no doubt I would do the same if it were me. However, I don’t have a problem with Donnchadh, so I fail to see why I should create one.”
Thora squared her shoulders. “You’re in Munster. Donn
chadh is going to come for you. Just because he hasn’t yet doesn’t mean he won’t in the near future. He seeks to destroy any of the Norse who refuse to join him. I have no idea why he’s taken this ‘join or die’ approach, but I can only assume he’s planning on retaliating for his father’s death at Clontarf.”
Njal stopped his pacing, but didn’t look at her. “Ah yes, his father. The great Brian Boru. He was a good man.” He stroked his beard. “I suppose that could be his motivation. Revenge has no time limit.”
Thora didn’t care what Donnchadh’s motivation was for attacking the Norse. She only wanted revenge against him for his part in the death of her family. “Do you plan to join him?”
Njal’s harsh laughter filled the longhouse. “I will not.”
“Then help me put an end to him before he gets the chance to come for you and your people.” Thora smiled as Njal’s lips pulled into a smile.
“Aye, very well. You can count on me when the time comes.”
CHAPTER 13
“Bjorn! How good it is to see you once again, my friend!” Harold stood outside the stables and waved an enthusiastic greeting to Thora and her traveling companions as Bjorn brought the horses to a halt just before the waiting jarl. His beaming smile was infectious.
Thora smiled and returned Harold’s wave, already liking the man.
“This must be your new jarl, Thora Sveinsdottir. Your messenger failed to mention how beautiful she is.” Harold bowed low and then righted himself and offered his hand to assist her from the wagon.
“Keep it in your trews, old man.” Bjorn laughed as he hopped from the wagon, unhitched the horses, and handed them off to a waiting groom.
Harold’s blue eyes held a devilish gleam as he winked at Thora. “I am a year older than Bjorn, so far from the ‘old man’ he accuses me of being. Unless you’re saying you’re an old man?” He raised his eyebrows at Bjorn.
Bjorn shook his head with a chuckle. “Some days I certainly feel like it, my friend.”
Thora couldn’t contain the smile that spread across her lips or the laugh that shook her shoulders as she accepted Harold’s hand and slid down from the wagon. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jarl Harold.”
When she was firmly on the ground, Harold released her hand and turned to Rúna. “Rúna! How lovely it is to see you again!”
She smiled as he helped her from the wagon.
Harold turned on Bjorn and the two men of similar age and build squared off.
“Men,” Rúna muttered with a small laugh. “Some things never change.”
Thora shook her head, keeping her eyes on the two men, waiting to see who would make the first move. “Harold greets all his guests like this?”
Rúna waved a hand. “Oh yes, and it’s all in good fun.”
Thora smiled. “Maybe I need to come up with a fun way to greet visitors to our town.”
Rúna laughed but shook her head. “Just wait until you see how this ends before deciding.”
Thora’s eyes narrowed as Bjorn circled Harold, who pivoted to keep Bjorn in sight at all times. Both men watched each other as if no one existed but the two of them. Harold faked a lunge, but Bjorn didn’t fall for it. Instead, Bjorn used Harold’s motion against him when he stepped around and pushed him forward. Harold’s arms made wild circles as he desperately tried to keep his footing. His was a losing battle. Bjorn raised his foot and pressed it against Harold’s backside only hard enough to cause the man to lose his balance. Harold collapsed in a heap, but pushed himself back up in a fluid movement that cast suspicion on the idea he was an old man. He wrapped Bjorn in an embrace as the two laughed.
“See? Harold never wins in these greetings. He once said he does it as a way of putting his guests at ease because it’s so informal.”
“I like that he can laugh at himself if it helps his guests feel more at home.” Thora shook her head as she laughed. “I doubt I could move as nimbly as what I’d just witnessed.”
“I know I couldn’t.” Rúna shrugged.
“That?” Harold waved to the spot on the ground he barely spent two seconds lying on. “That’s not something that can easily be taught in training. That skill comes strictly from needing to save your own skin in the heat of battle. If you only knew how many times I’d nearly lost my head.”
“A few of those times, I had to help save it! That is, when I wasn’t trying to take it myself.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his puffed out chest. Thora wasn’t aware the two ever fought against each other, and when she saw the mischievous glint in Bjorn’s eyes and the smile Harold was barely concealing, she knew they were teasing her.
“I think if Bjorn were ever after your head, you wouldn’t have it.” Thora dissolved into laughter when Harold made a show of being offended until he couldn’t contain his laughter any longer.
“Alright, we have some serious business to attend to. Once we get that out of the way, we can continue with this silliness.” Bjorn wiped his mouth in an attempt to erase his smile. Thora couldn’t get the corners of her mouth to do anything other than smile and her cheeks were beginning to ache because of it. Bjorn had told her of his friendship with Harold, but he hadn’t told her Harold was so funny and welcoming. He was a welcomed change from the other two jarls, who were more concerned with proving their dominance and power than being hospitable.
“You’re right, old friend. Forgive me, ladies. Come.” He held a hand out and ushered them toward a large building. “I figured you’d find your way here around supper time, so I had the women prepare a feast worthy of the great Bjorn the Death-Bringer, the returning Rúna, and their new jarl.”
Harold’s simple longhouse hall was vastly different from Hagen’s extravagant hall, not that Thora was surprised. The two men were like night and day. Where Hagen was cold, standoffish, and slow to warm to her, Harold was warm and welcoming right from the start. She smiled and her cheeks heated as she stepped inside the spacious room and received a welcoming chorus from Harold’s men who were anxiously awaiting the feast.
“You didn’t have to do all of this on my account.” Thora spoke low to Harold as she waved to his men.
His heartfelt smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Oh, but I did. It’s not every day that I get to host the daughter of a man I admired greatly. I was sorry to hear of Svein’s passing.” He shook his head as if to clear the somber tone and his smile returned. “Now, you’re jarl. That’s an amazing feat for one so young. I know Svein would be proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Thora didn’t know what else to say to his kind words. After the icy reception at Hagen’s and the reception at Njal’s that required she prove herself physically before he would even crack a smile, she hadn’t expected to be welcomed with flattery.
“Please, will the three of you join me on the dais?” Harold held his hand toward the raised dais at the end of the room.
When they’d taken their seats in the chairs carved with knot work at the dais, Harold clapped his hands. Moments later, servants spilled into the hall carrying trays ladened with food. As Thora waited for the food to makes its way to her, she glanced around the wooden hall filled with smiling faces. The hall itself was plain, lacking any sort of decorations, and yet it was one of the most comfortable she’d ever been in. Harold’s men appeared at ease and in good spirits as they raised their tankards with beaming faces to toast whatever it was they were happy about. Considering the many different things they raised their tankards to, Thora figured they were happy about anything and everything. The atmosphere of the hall radiated light and good spirits. Thora hoped her yet to be built hall would have such a feel.
“Bjorn’s messenger said you wanted to speak to me about an alliance, is that right?” Harold tore into a piece of meat as he waited for her response.
Thora hesitated to swallow her bite of goose because the meat was so tender and juicy that she wanted to chew slowly to savor it for as long as possible. She swallowed and then cleared her throat. “I am seeking an alliance with
you, that’s right. I want to oust Donnchadh mac Briain and his bishop.” She quickly took another bite as she allowed Harold time to digest her words.
He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. When he swallowed, he nodded. “Those two have been a thorn in my side for years. With Kincora just down the road, I’ve had to deal with attacks on several occasions. When he realized he couldn’t attack us without a lot of losses, he began raiding and taking our supplies.”
That bit of news shocked Thora. Though Donnchadh attacking the Norse in the area was common knowledge amongst them, Limerick didn’t appear hampered by Donnchadh’s raids. Food and drink flowed freely from the kitchen, his men all wore well-kept clothing and tunics, and each was well armed, from what Thora could see of their belts. “I had no idea he was doing that to you.”
Harold wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think it was his attempt to bring me to heel. His attacks were never like what you suffered down in Cork, and the raids never got much of our supplies. I think he does it more to remind me he’s there than to accomplish anything else.”
Thora wondered if Galinn led any of those attacks or raids, but decided he couldn’t have if they were so unsuccessful. “How often did they happen?”
Harold shrugged. “Every couple of weeks. The last one was a few weeks ago. This has been the longest we’ve gone without being harassed.”
A few weeks? Around the time Galinn helped her escape and turned his back on Donnchadh? Thora shook her head. Whether Galinn was responsible didn’t matter anymore. “Maybe Donnchadh is busy somewhere else?”
“I don’t care what he’s doing. You’re right. He has to go, and that bishop of his. You can count on me and my men when you’re ready. You have other allies in this quest?”
Thora nodded. “Hagen and Njal.”
Harold leaned back. “Let me guess. Njal made you fight to prove yourself.” He pointed to the bruising on her face.
Rule of the Shieldmaiden Page 7
