by Griff Hosker
Olaf snorted, “You young warriors do not have the strength you were born with! If you tried to use it like that then the first sword blow you took would rip the byrnie more. Put your leather vest on.”
He did so.
“Now the leather will stop the mail which has been cut opening again. Your arms are protected and it gives you a little protection at the top of your legs. Until you have coin enough for Bagsecg it will do. When we land use a hammer to flatten the ends of the mail rings.”
Haraldr looked delighted. He now had mail. All that he now needed was a helmet. With the coin he had taken he could have one made.
We sailed along the coast of Cent. We had camped at a beach close by Hæstingaceaster before now but I did not want to risk being attacked. With the wind behind we made good time. The sun began to set behind us, making navigation easier. It was completely dark when we were approaching the coast of the Frankish Empire. Since the raids on the coast of the King of the Franks they had begun to ally themselves with the men of Wessex. This would be the first time we had traded with them since the alliance. The effect would be interesting. It was a new harbour we would be entering and we had heard that it was tidal. Although we were shallow keeled it was not worth the risk and so we threw out a sea anchor and spent a night half a mile from the coast.
When dawn broke Erik and I consulted Atticus’ charts. When we passed the small fishing village of Dunkerque we knew we were close. We lowered the sail and headed in under oars. We kept to the middle of the channel. I saw sandbanks and mudflats. Erik took us through as slowly and as carefully as he could. When Lars shouted that he could see masts we were relieved. There were no other drekar in the small port but there were knarr and other trading vessels. During the night we had taken our shields from the side. We told the world that we were there to trade and not to raid.
As we did not know the place I did not take off my mail. When we had finished tying up I said, “Erik, I will go ashore with the Ulfheonar. It will be better until we know how we will be received.”
“Aye Jarl Dragonheart and I will examine our bows. We may have suffered damage. I will get the pine tar out and the sheep wool.” The ship’s boys would be kept busy.
This was part of the Empire; this was Flanders. The Emperor ruled. At the moment, so Atticus had told us, the sons of Louis the Pious was disputing with their father who ruled which parts of the land. The leader in Flanders was the Count. I was not certain how we would be viewed. Dorestad had always been on the edge of the Empire and a law unto themselves. We left our shields and helmets but took our swords. I carried the crown with me. Haaken had one of the Holy Books. We were greeted warily by the other sailors. We were pirates. If they met us at sea then they would expect us to try to capture them. Most had never seen us ashore and we were a novelty. A dangerous novelty but a novelty nonetheless. We smiled and greeted them as we passed. They answered us and that was a start.
I saw a hut. It was at the end of the quay. There were two armed men there and what looked like an official. They looked nervously at each other as we approached. The official spoke to me. I understood not one word. I guessed he spoke Flemish. I shrugged. He then tried Saxon.
“What is your business here?”
I smiled broadly, “We are traders. Have you a market?”
He nodded and looked a little relieved, “It is the day after tomorrow.”
He looked nervously at the two men who were obviously his guards. They both looked intimidated. I did not blame them. Olaf, Rollo and Rolf were huge men with humourless faces. “Er, lord, there is the matter of port fees.”
I nodded, “You shall have them… after we have sold our goods at the market.” I paused and looked him in the eye, “You have my word.”
He nodded. That was as good an answer as he was going to get. “Of course, lord. It is five silver pennies a day.”
“And have you any decent alehouses?”
The man shrugged. I looked at the sentries. One said, “Freya brews a golden beer. She has the sign of the wheat outside her alehouse.”
“Thank you, friend.” I smiled and the man looked relieved. I led my men down to the ale house. We passed others. They were busy but not crowded. Before I let my young men loose I wanted to see the calibre of those who used the port. We had been ambushed before now in strange ports.
We had to stoop in the doorway. Frisians were smaller than we were. Inside there were just three tables. The chairs were overturned barrels. Just two drinkers stood at the wooden trestle table which passed for a bar. There was a man with a cudgel leaning close to it. He would be the one who kept order. He had gnarled hands. He looked like he could handle himself in a fight. He nodded at us. A buxom woman smiled as we entered. She spoke to us in Danish, “Things are looking up, Sven! With Vikings in port I shall make money!” The one she had called Sven walked to the door. He would watch from the outside now.
Olaf Leather Neck said, “Not if you insult us by calling us Danes!”
She put her hands on her hips, “You look like Danes.” Then she smiled, “Never fear, you will enjoy my ale.”
I held up my hand, “Before we drink. I have a crew who have coin in their purses. I have been recommended this ale house. I should warn you that if they are cheated or have their ale watered then the wrath of the Dragonheart will be visited upon you.”
Her face became serious, “You are the Dragonheart?” I nodded. “Then I can promise you that your men will not be rooked nor robbed. It is an honour. I have heard of you.” She gestured with her thumb, “I learned my trade in Dorestad. I was a young girl then but I heard tales of you and your men. You slew Rurik of Dorestad!” I said nothing although the snake had deserved death. She smiled, “And we have food. Well, we can have food when I will get those lazy whores off their backs. They can do an honest trade although I daresay you have lusty young warriors.”
“We do.” I turned, “Rolf divide the crew into two. Half now and half later.”
“Aye Jarl.” He stood and left.
“And now we will try your ale.”
As she poured the golden ale into our horns she yelled over her shoulder, “Bertha, Hilde, Mathilde, work! Get a stew on!” I was interested that she spoke Saxon to the girls. That suggested they had been brought here as slaves.
The four of us drank deeply. I saw the ale wife looking nervously at us. It was good beer. Olaf quaffed all of his and shouted, “Another!”
Freya looked delighted, “I told you!”
We were on our third when Rolf returned with the crew. By then the three Saxon whores were busy fetching more upturned barrels. They were all naked from the waist up. It was hard to judge their age but none looked to be older than eighteen summers. They seemed cheerful enough. I saw that Sámr and Lars Long Nose were with the crew. Sámr looked nervously at me. Freya was ready with horns of ale. I gestured to the two boys, “These two have watered ale, Freya! We do not want them puking all night!”
“Very well but my ale will put hair on their chests and make men of them!”
Sámr looked a little wary of the three whores. He assiduously avoided looking at them. He took the horn proffered by Freya and said, “Thank you.”
“He is a polite one. He has your looks Jarl.”
Sámr looked at her and said proudly, “I am his great grandson.”
She laughed and pinched his cheek, “Keep your hands off this little one! Wait until he grows a little!”
Poor Sámr tried to make himself as small as he could. When she had gone I said, “That is what happens in these places. They mean no harm,” He nodded. “Better not to mention it to your mother eh? She might not understand.”
The two ship’s boys enjoyed the night in the alehouse. Neither said much and they drank sparingly. The food was hearty and simple. Sámr and Lars had the healthy appetites of the young. They could not be filled. They listened to the young warriors talking of their first battle.
I stood after eight horns of ale, “First watch le
t us go and relieve our comrades. They have earned a night in this ale house too.”
Freya came with the wax tablet on which she had marked our consumption. I did not look at it. I reached into my purse. The bodyguard, Sven, watched me. I daresay other customers had tried to leave without paying. I took one of the gold coins out. Queen Osburga had been protected by well-paid men. “This will do for all of my crew?”
“It is more than enough.”
I nodded, “We will be in port for three days. We will get good service?”
She took the coin, reached up and kissed me on the lips. “You will get the service which a great warrior deserves.”
Sven was leaning against the wall and bouncing his cudgel off the palm of his left hand. He bowed his head, “Good night, Jarl Dragonheart. I will see that your men get back to your ship safely.”
“You know me?”
“When I was young I sailed with Jarl Gunnar Thorfinnson. I left him before he went to Raven Wing Island. I have paid for that mistake ever since.”
I did not recognise the warrior. His story was not unusual. Some men, when they went ashore with coins to spend, forgot that they owed a duty to their oar brothers. It normally resulted from a meeting with a woman. They thought with their breeks. Their ship would sail and then they would be stranded.
I took a coin from my purse, “Here is coin to watch my men. We all make mistakes my friend. It is how we remedy them that make us what we are.”
“You are right there, Jarl Dragonheart. I was lucky to find Freya. She has a kind heart.”
As we walked back down the quay Sámr plagued me with questions about the young women we had seen. I was distracted for I was still thinking of Harald. Haaken One Eye laughed, “As much as I would like to hear the Dragonheart explain them, Sámr, I think that you should ask your father when you return home. Please do so when I am present!”
Chapter 3
We were moored in a strange port and Erik Short Toe was no fool. We had a good watch kept aboard. He had also rigged an old sail over the deck for we would be there for two days. Many of the crew had consumed too much beer. During the night I was awoken by the sound of men making offerings to Njoror over the side. It was ever the way with young men and they had earned the right for it had been a hard fight.
When I rose, early the next morning, it was to an overcast day which promised rain. I heard Erik, at the prow, barking out orders for the ship’s boys. After I had made water and doused myself with sea water I strolled to the dragonhead. “You are up early, Erik.”
He nodded. “‘Heart of the Dragon’ is a strong ship but we struck that Saxon hard. It was well above the waterline where we struck but I am having the boys apply more pine tar and sheep’s wool. It will keep them busy and out of mischief and I will sleep easier on the voyage home.”
I nodded, “I will head into the town. I will put the word about that I have a crown to sell.”
Erik looked concerned, “Do not go alone, jarl. We do not know this town yet.”
I had no intention of doing so. I saw that most of the crew were still asleep. I had an old man’s bladder. Haraldr Leifsson and Siggi Einarsson were both awake. I saw them talking. I waved them over, “You two, get your swords I have need of you.”
Eager to serve they grabbed their weapons. I noticed that Siggi had the short mail byrnie he had captured and Haraldr wore the leather and mail. They were both different warriors already from the two who had left Whale Island. A Viking warband was something which was alive. It grew and it changed. You left home with one set of warriors. The battles, the voyage and the shared experiences made you something different from that which had begun the voyage. Women often complained that their men changed after a raid. With these young men that might mean they did not return to their mothers. They might take a wife themselves.
As we walked along the quay I asked, “Did you not drink as much as the others?”
Siggi laughed, “The girls in the alehouse offered Haraldr a lower price than the others. My friend here had little time for drinking.”
Haraldr looked embarrassed, “They were nice girls.”
I cocked an eye. It was rare to hear whores called nice girls. “We will call in at the alehouse and see if they have hot food.” I nodded to Haraldr, “And hot food is all that we will enjoy!”
A place like Freya’s never really closed. There were times when there were no customers but then one of the girls would be sleeping on the bar and I had no doubt that Sven or another like him would be on call in case there was trouble. The door was closed but it was not barred and I pushed it open. Bertha had been asleep on the trestle table. Her head jerked up as the door groaned. She saw Haraldr Leifsson and laughed, “Back for more!”
I shook my head, “Have you any food?”
She nodded but looked disappointed, “I can get you some. What would you have?”
“Something hot.”
“I will fry some meat. It will not take long. There is pickled herring to be going on with. Ale?”
“Aye, whenever you are ready.”
Sven ducked his head as he came from the back room, “Jarl Dragonheart, you are up early.”
“I have business.”
“I will get the bread. Baldwin the Baker makes good bread.” He went out of the front door. I took that as a compliment. He trusted us.
I heard the hiss as salted pig meat was dropped into the pig fat. The smell made me hungry. Bertha came in. She had a platter in one hand and a jug of ale in the other. Her neck was festooned with horns. Haraldr stood and took the platter from her. She giggled. After she had poured our ale and he had sat down she kissed Haraldr on the cheek. “Thank you, Viking!”
Siggi smiled, “You have that one in the palm of your hand, my friend.”
Haraldr was embarrassed. He changed the subject, “What do we do this morning, jarl?”
“I am going to make enquiries about the crown we took and the books. In Dorestad I knew where to sell such items. Here I do not. It is wise to be cautious in a new place. You can be robbed.” We ate the pickled herring. It was not the best I had ever tasted but it served a purpose. Sven arrived with the hot bread. We smelled it before he even entered the alehouse.
“I have the bread, Bertha.”
“Give them two loaves, Sven. I think the giant could consume one all on his own!”
Sven laughed, “The girls here have good hearts, jarl.” He left two large loaves.
I broke off my favourite part, the crusty end. There were still herring juices on the platter and I mopped them up. Bertha brought in the steaming platter of fried, salted pig meat. She put the thick slices on the bread we tore. The juices would soak into the hot bread. When the meat was gone we would still have the taste when we ate the bread.
Sven had deposited the bread in the back room and he and Bertha also enjoyed bread and ham. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and washed down the bread with ale. I waved over Sven. He brought his horn over. “Sit, I would ask you questions.”
We made room for him and he sat.
“I have some books we took from a monastery in Wessex and a golden crown. Who would buy then here in Bruggas? Is there a merchant we could trust?”
Sven finished off his bread and meat and wiped his hands on his breeks. “There are many who would buy them but whom could you trust?” He drank some ale. “If the treasures were mine I would go to Isaac the Jew. He knows gold and he is not afraid to handle the books you sell. There are others who fear the wrath of the White Christ. To Isaac it is just business. He also has Norse men to guard him. You can trust him.”
When we had finished and paid I followed Sven’s directions and headed for the house of the Jew. It was on the far side of the town. There were better houses that we passed and Isaac the Jew lived in what might be termed the poor part of town but that was deceptive. The door was strongly made and studded with metal. Eyes watched us as we approached. I knocked and waited. No one came although I knew we were being a
ssessed from within. Siggi was impatient, “I could kick it in, jarl.”
I shook my head, “You would break your foot before that door. Have you somewhere else you wish to be?”
“No, Jarl Dragonheart.”
“Then let us be patient. This man risks death living in a land which worships the White Christ. My wife told me that they call them the Christ Killers. I would expect such caution. It bodes well.”
Eventually we heard bolts being slid back. At the same time two warriors appeared from the side of the building. They were Vikings and they were mailed. Siggi and Haraldr were startled and their hands went to their swords. “Hold. I will tell you when you draw your weapons.”
The two warriors said nothing and I waited. The door opened and a small, neat man with a skull cap smiled at us. He had a trimmed beard and fine clothes. In his belt he had a dagger. He spoke to me in Danish, “Can I be of assistance to you warriors?” Behind him I saw two more guards. These were not mailed and did not look like Vikings.
“I was told that you may be interested in buying some items we took from the Saxons.”
“You are pirates then.”
I smiled, “I prefer hunters. We hunt for treasure. I have a fine selection. I am Jarl Dragonheart.”
The two Vikings recognised my name. The Jew looked at them. Their faces told him that they had heard of me too. “I believe I have heard that name. You may enter but you will forgive me if I do not invite in your two companions. I give you my word that you will be safe.” He spread his hands apologetically, “My home is small and this giant would fill a palace.”
“Of course. I have a crew of men in the harbour. I am certain that I will be safe.” The implied threat made him smile. “Haraldr and Siggi, wait here. I will be out when my business is completed.”
We entered. The outside was plain, almost run down, but the interior was opulently decorated. He had rugs on his floor although they were only in the centre. There were wall hangings to keep it warm in winter. The chairs were upholstered. He lived well. “I trust you will either take off your sea boots or stay on the wooden floor.”
