Viking Blood (Dragonheart Book 16)

by Hosker, Griff

  When they had all gone and, while Brigid and our slaves cleared the hall and prepared food, I sat before my fire with Ragnar, my grandson and Gruffyd, my son. Ragnar was a warrior now. Both he and my son had been blooded. Ragnar had inherited hearth weru from his father and they had died fighting the Skull Takers or had succumbed to their wounds in the months since that battle. Ragnar was keen to join the Ulfheonar. Having killed his own wolf he had passed that part of the test but he had yet to show that he had the other skills. Gruffyd had also killed but he was not yet a warrior. This would be the first raid he would be part of the crew. I knew that his mother would be unhappy but she knew she was the mother of a Viking and he would go to war.

  “Will I be with those who land and fight or will you leave me to guard the ship?”

  I cocked an eye at my son, “You have become bold. You question a jarl?”

  “No, I ask my father if he will treat me as a man or continue to pretend I am a boy. I have fought alongside you and Ragnar. I have spilled blood; Viking blood. I am almost as tall as Ragnar. I should be treated the same as he.”

  I nodded, “Ragnar, sit opposite Gruffyd.” He did so and I brought two tallow candles and placed them on the table. “You are right, my son. Let us see if you are as strong.” I took a piece of cord. “Place your elbows on the table and your forearms together.” They did so and I bound them. “Now let us see who is the stronger. One of you will have a burn on his hand.” Whoever lost would have the back of his hand pressed against the flame of the candle. This was a game warriors used. They both understood the rules.

  They nodded and began to strain. I was pleased that Brigid was preparing food. If she saw this she would be unhappy and try to stop it. I knew that it was necessary. Gruffyd had grown but he had not the strength of Ragnar who now had shoulders as broad as mine. My son strained but the end was inevitable. He gasped as the flame burned the back of his hand. I slit the cord.

  “Sorry, Gruffyd.” Ragnar was concerned for he and my son were close.

  My son nodded and took his defeat gracefully, “I understand. I will become stronger.”

  I smiled, grateful that they had both taken it so well “And you will come on the raid but if I ask you to stay at the back then know that I do not do it because I think any less of you but because I need my strongest warriors at the fore. There is no shame in guarding the drekar. I did it when I was your age. Do not run before you can walk.”

  “Who will captain ‘Breath ’ grandfather?”

  I handed some salve to Gruffyd. “Rub this on your hand before your mother sees it.” He did so. Ragnar had been kind. The flame had barely blistered the skin. “Asbjorn the Strong would be the first choice but he may not choose to raid. My other choice would be Raibeart but if he is just married his mind may not be as sharp as it should be.”

  Gruffyd handed me back the salve. “And do I wear a byrnie?”

  “That depends. If you wear an old one of mine will it fit?”

  “Bagsecg could make it fit.”

  “Bagsecg has a family to feed. Have you coin?”

  “But you are jarl! You could tell him to do it.”

  Ragnar shook his head and laughed, “You do not know your father. He never uses his position for himself. I have coin if you do not have enough.”

  Gruffyd shook his head. “I have coin but when I have paid Bagsecg then I will have none.”

  “And that will make you hungry to take coin from those we fight. Then you will be a Viking. A Viking father gives his son a sword and says, ‘now go and find your fortune’.”

  Gruffyd smiled and nodded, “Now I see. This will temper the metal of which I am made.”

  “We live in a harsh land but it makes us stronger than those we fight. Come we will find my old byrnie. You will need to clean it before Bagsecg works on it. There may be rust.”

  We went to my chest and I took out the byrnie I had last worn when Wolf Killer had been Gruffyd’s age. It was still serviceable and it was smaller than the one I now wore. I had grown a little heavier in the intervening years. There were still traces of grease upon it but the damp had got to it.

  “Here. Ragnar show him how to clean it. The sand from the Water is good fine sand. Ask Uhtric for some vinegar. You will need a sack.”

  When Brigid and her slaves came back in she asked, “Where are the boys? They must be ravenous.”

  “They are cleaning my old mail.” I hesitated. There would be an argument and I might as well get it out of the way before we ate otherwise it would hang over the meal like a storm laden cloud. “He is going to wear it when we raid.”

  Brigid waved the slaves and servants away, “He is young; too young.”

  “He is thirteen summers old. He has fought before. He will be a warrior. Younger than he have been raiding.”

  “But he is my son.”

  “He is a Viking and Viking blood courses through his veins.”

  She gave me a sly look, “You have a Saxon father and a Welsh mother. Where is your Viking blood?”

  “From Ragnar who adopted me and from my comrades who spilled it with me.” I took her hands in mine. “Tell me what the last year has been like.”

  “Peaceful.”

  I nodded, “And happy?”

  “I was happy!”

  “But was the clan happy? Was I? Was Gruffyd? Think of the disagreements; think of the squabbles and then ask yourself why.”

  She shook her head and slid her hands from mine, “I do not know why I argue with you. I never win.”

  “That is what you chose when you took the road from your home to mine. Do you regret the move?”

  She leaned forward and kissed my forehead, “Of course not but make sure my son comes back with all his limbs!”

  I nodded, “You know that the Ulfheonar would give their lives rather than see anything happen to either Ragnar or Gruffyd.”

  “As would you. I want you back whole. I wish to grow old with you, Dragonheart.”

  Asbjorn chose not to come raiding. His home, Windar’s Mere had suffered the most from the Skull Takers and he wished to make it stronger. Both Ketil and Ulf Olafsson wished to raid and brought their hearth weru. They would attend the wedding and then come raiding.

  “The gold appeals, Jarl Dragonheart, but hurting King Egbert has a greater lure. He is an arrogant Saxon. He thinks that now he has Northumbria as a subject kingdom we will bow our knee to him. He will learn that a Viking bows his knee to no king!”

  We went to Úlfarrston before the wedding. It was not to celebrate the wedding but to prepare our ships. Erik Short Toe and Kolbjorn of Torver could make sure that the drekar were seaworthy but I had to ensure that all else was ready.

  The headman of Úlfarrston was Coen ap Pasgen. He was Raibeart’s brother. His settlement had grown in the years since I had first arrived and become a friend of his father, Pasgen. They now had many homes which lay outside their palisade. Coen even had a home built partly of stone quarried from the Old Man. His people were now seafarers and their knarr plied the seas. He was grateful to us for our protection. I sought him out to let him know of our plans.

  He was in an ebullient mood when I met him. “I never thought that my wild little brother would take a wife nor that it would be a Viking bride.”

  “It should not be a surprise, Coen. After all, many of my warriors have taken brides from your town. Erik and Bolli both have such brides as do some of my warriors.” I pointed to four huts which lay closer to the forest. “They even farm there. I think it is good. It is wyrd . It joins our people and makes us one.”

  “And we grow. There are some who wish to clear some of the forest to the north and west of us. It would be fine land to farm. We have settlers who come to this land. They know that you will protect them. Soon we will have two towns. I have often wondered about taking over the land close to Whale Island. The port is a better one. Has Erik told you that the river is silting up? We can only land our drekar at high tide.”

  “He has
told me. If you did move, you would need more people to build it, I assume.”

  “We would have slaves to help the settlers.”

  “Then if we have slaves do you wish to buy them or shall we take them to Dyflin?”

  “We do have need of slaves. Will they be Saxon or Welsh?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “We speak the same language as the Welsh. They are easier to work with.”

  “That seems reasonable. We will be away for ten days or so. Have your captains keep their ears open for any news. We have been isolated for a while.”

  He said, “I know, Jarl. We were worried about you. The Skull Takers seemed to tear the heart from you.”

  “Let us just say that I forgot what it is to be a leader. It took my granddaughter to remind me. I will not forget again.”

  The wedding went well although to speak the truth I paid little attention to it. Raibeart and Yngvild seemed well suited although he was at least ten years older than she was. They seemed, from what I could see, to be a happy couple. Haaken and my men had built him a hall while we had been working on the ship. It was out of the settlement and close to the forest. With so many men it had not taken long. Raibeart took her from Haaken, lifted her and carried her into the hall. As soon as he did so then Haaken had no further responsibility and he got drunk!

  We left two days later. I smiled as my son and grandson carried their chests aboard. This was part of being a warrior. Your chest was your home. In it would be your mail, carefully oiled and wrapped in a sheepskin. Your helmet and weapons would also be carefully wrapped, usually, in the spare clothes which you would take. The rest was down to personal taste. Some men took bone to carve during the long days at sea when the wind was right. Ragnar and my son would learn what they would need while on this voyage. I saw Olaf Leather Neck direct them to the place they would row. That would be where they would lay their chest. That would be their bench. I saw them sit on their chest and then look at the oars laid in the centre of the drekar. They would use them to help us move away from the land. The first part of the voyage was often the most dangerous as you fought currents, tides and wind.

  Erik Short Toe nodded to Olaf Leather Neck. Olaf shouted, “Oars!” The rowers took their oar and the one closest to the centre board held it high. “Out oars!” The rowers passed the oar through the oar lock.

  Olaf look to Erik who shouted, “Loose the sheets! Row!”

  All of us aboard were rusty and it showed. It had been a year and more since we had sailed and rowed. The first strokes were ragged. A couple of oarsmen fouled other oars. I saw a scowl appear on Olaf Leather Neck’s face. I shook my head. The first part of our voyage would help to make us as one. The younger warriors were unused to the back breaking effort of rowing and the older ones now had aches, pains and poor joints. It was fortunate that we did not have far to sail.

  “Haaken, a chant.”

  Haaken nodded. He knew the value of a chant to bring us all together and to help keep the rhythm.

  Through the stormy Saxon Seas

  The Ulfheonar they sailed

  Fresh from killing faithless Danes

  Their glory was assured

  Heart of Dragon

  Gift of a king

  Two fine drekar

  Flying o'er foreign seas

  Then Saxons came out of the night

  An ambush by their Isle of Wight

  Vikings fight they do not run

  The Jarl turned away from the rising sun

  Heart of Dragon

  Gift of a king

  Two fine drekar

  Flying o'er foreign seas

  The galdramenn burned Dragon Fire

  And the seas they burned bright red

  Aboard 'The Gift' Asbjorn the Strong

  And the rock Eystein

  Rallied their men to board their foes

  And face them beard to beard

  Heart of Dragon

  Gift of a king

  Two fine drekar

  Flying o'er foreign seas

  Against great odds and back to back

  The heroes fought as one

  Their swords were red with Saxon blood

  And the decks with bodies slain

  Surrounded on all sides was he

  But Eystein faltered not

  He slew first one and then another

  But the last one did for him

  Even though he fought as a walking dead

  He killed right to the end

  Heart of Dragon

  Gift of a king

  Two fine drekar

  Flying o'er foreign seas

  The strokes became longer and more even. Men sang the words and forgot their aches and pains. Soon we were heading away from the land. As we passed the Isle that was Man, Arne Eriksson shouted, from the masthead. “There is a dragon ship at Hrams-a.”

  I shouted up, “Do you recognise it?”

  “No Jarl. It is bigger than a threttanessa. It is not one I have seen before.”

  I wondered who it could be. Arne knew the ships from Dyflin and those from the island of the Raven Wing Clan. The fact that we did not recognise did not necessarily mean danger for it was but one drekar. However we had learned to be cautious. When we returned I would have to ask Gunnstein Berserk Killer in Dyflin what he knew of it.

  Once we had cleared Man we took in the oars and let our sail carry us. The wolf on the canvas told all who we were. Our drekar was well known but it paid to let would-be attackers who we were. They would think twice about attacking the Dragonheart. It felt good to be at sea again. Our drekar was fast and she fairly flew through the water. Her creaks and groans were familiar to us. Erik cast a critical eye over the sail and shouted orders. Guthrum, Arne and Knut were kept busy trimming sails and tightening stays and sheets. He tweaked the steering board to give us the maximum speed possible.

  I cast an eye astern. “I would not be as quick, Erik. Kolbjorn is dropping astern.”

  He looked over his shoulder and saw that our consort was eight lengths behind us and falling further back. “Sorry, Jarl Dragonheart. I sometimes forget just how fast we are.” Rather than taking in sail he used the steering board to slow us down. When Kolbjorn was four lengths behind he nodded. “He should be able to keep pace with us now.”

  Aiden was not with us. He had stayed at home. I had asked him to draw up plans to improve our settlement. Like Úlfarrston we had too many people to live within our walls. Unlike Coen ap Pasgen I wanted them to be safe from attack. He would have ideas when I returned.

  Haaken came to the stern to join me. He had some dried venison and he offered me a piece. I chewed it and he gestured, as he spoke, “One daughter married and two to go. You have two daughters too, Jarl.”

  “Aye but they are much younger and I am in no hurry to marry them off.”

  “I would I had had sons. Then they could follow me to sea as yours did. It was not meant to be.” He unconsciously stroked his hair. It had gone white after we had visited the witch on Syllingar. He said it did not bother him but I knew that it did. “We have had good lives eh, Dragonheart? There are few warriors who have lived as long as we have.”

  “You do not have the death wish do you?”

  He laughed, “No. There is no berserker blood in my veins. I was just thinking that Raibeart may father a son. I would have a grandson. That would be like having a son would it not?”

  I threw the chewed deer meat astern and pointed to Ragnar and Gruffyd who were seated at the bow. “There is little to choose between a son and a grandson. They both have Viking blood in their veins and they both give me much pleasure.”

  Erik gave us plenty of sea room as he sailed around the island the Saxons called Angle Sea and the men of the Cymri, Ynys Môn . I did not fear the Saxon ships but there was little to be gained from fighting and sinking them. We could lose warriors in such a sea battle and I wanted to save my warriors for Wessex. We would hurt Egbert. We pulled in at the tiny island which stood in the m
iddle of the Welsh sea. The Welsh called it Ynys Enlli. It had a safe anchorage and there were two convenient rocks to which we could attach ropes and keep us safe. We called it the island of the puffins for that most delicious of birds nest there in great numbers. The two ships boys who were brothers, Arne and Knut, helped to tie up the ship and then they clambered up rocks to find eggs and to capture a few of the birds for food.

  I saw Rollo Thin Skin give some of Aiden’s salve to Ragnar and Gruffyd. Their hands would be red raw. The salt water and hard use would toughen them up but the first couple of voyages were always the worst. My hands had become as leather; theirs would too.

  Olaf and Haaken approached me as ‘Odin’s Breath ’ tied up alongside us. I have never been to Brycgstow. What is there?” Haaken had a curious mind.

  “It is a mile or so up a river the Welsh call Afen. There is little there but one of Coen’s captains traded there and told us that there is a large island in the middle of the river. We can leave the drekar there and know they are safe from attack. Aquae Sulis is just twelve miles up the river.”

  “Then why not sail up the river and save our legs?”

  “We might, next time, but I would not risk our ships. We do not know the depth of the river. The knarr has a shallower draught. Besides, the walk will do us good.”

  “And we might risk the men of Wessex. Twelve miles is a long way.”

  Haaken shook his head, “Olaf Leather Neck worrying about Saxons?”

  He growled, “Listen, Haaken One Eye, I fear no man alive.” He waved a hand at the deck. “But we have untried warriors.”

  “And we have greater numbers. That is why we have so many men, Olaf.” I smiled. “I share your worries. If I go home without my son then Brigid’s wrath will be terrible to behold. The Saxons have just fought a war which they have won. They will still be in Lundenwic and Wintan-ceastre celebrating. There may be a thegn but he will not have housecarls he will have the fyrd. If we tarry then we will be in danger. I have no doubt that our raid will alarm them and after our raid then all will be more vigilant but if the Allfather watches over us and the Norns do not spin then I believe we will be successful. Every warrior wanted a raid, did they not?”