by Jason Born
CHAPTER 5
The weather was certainly milder in Dyflin than either Iceland or Greenland. The darkness of night didn’t consume so much of the day and the bitter cold was rare, even in winter. It was now late spring and the sun brought life back to the city and the sea; the solstice would soon be upon us.
Leif and I delayed our raid on Wales while we assisted in the final plan to attack England. The plan was a bold one indeed. We wouldn’t begin attacking on the fringes such as south Wessex or begin in Northumbria. Instead we would invade in Essex, a part of East Anglia, just north of London. Our plan was to exact a heavy toll on the English. When a detailed map of Essex was finally found, Forkbeard and Olaf selected the Panta River. Specifically, we would rally at Kales, the westernmost extent of the Dutch-speaking mainland, then land at an insignificant town called Maldon. If successful, we should be able to reach London in short order. Forkbeard would have his precious Danelaw, we would have riches.
Over the days of planning, Leif again proved himself to be skilled at leading the opinions of men. I was glad Leif sensed my thoughts so often now. He helped me explain them in a less offensive manner to the two kings whose sensibilities I seemed to offend often. In a short time, Leif grew to be a trusted advisor to Sweyn, at least on a temporary basis. Both Leif and Olaf still respected my direct opinions, though, and so in their confidence I told them both that another benefit of attacking in Essex was the chance for fast profit if the battles went against us. Olaf’s fleet would be assured of leaving with ample gold artifacts from the rich Christian churches of Essex.
But today I commanded Charging Boar and Leif was at the helm of Dragon Skull. Our sails were full ahead of the wind and so our oars were stowed, strapped securely in the T-shaped racks in the boat’s center. Our red shields hung at the top of the gunwale. Men occupied their time sharpening their sword edges or axes with whetstones. While most men could not afford chain mail, Leif and I were now wearing ours. I looked over to Leif off the Boar’s starboard; his mail glistened in the sun. Tyrkr had put the reflective sheen on it last night with a strong polishing before turning in. I know because he performed the same task for me.
Tyrkr had made nearly enough money to purchase his freedom; two or three more successful summers of raiding were all that was required. He remained as devout as ever and Leif trusted him implicitly – as well he should. As I stood gazing across to the Dragon Skull, Tyrkr was hard at work putting a finer point on some of the men’s spears.
The nearest point of Wales was only seventy-five miles away from Dyflin, but we would not go there. Our plan was to raid in the wealthier though still lightly defended targets in southern Wales. We would soon turn south for two or three days, then head east into the rising sun until we found a suitable target. Sheep and thralls were the most likely treasure we would find. I always held out hope for one of the Christian shrines or monasteries. A single successful attack on such a place could make a Norseman very wealthy. If coordinated properly, we would have time to make our raids in the coming weeks, return to Dyflin, and still meet Olaf’s force for our war on England.
Cnute had become the second in command on Charging Boar. He stood next to Magnus who manned our rudder. Magnus’s arms and back had become heavily muscled over his years of pushing hard against the sea to control Charging Boar. Both men, Cnute and Magnus, had been rewarded for their participation in battles and raids since Greenland and were adorned as warriors should be. However, neither could yet afford chain mail and so looked naked to me in their leather mail as we approached another conflict. I was still lost in thought staring out at Dragon Skull and the shimmering sea when Cnute asked, “Will the invasion of England be as rewarding as what I’ve heard?”
Without turning from starboard, I leaned on the gunwale with both hands and said, “We’ve got a battle in the coming days that you need to survive before we talk about the riches of East Anglia.”
Cnute persisted, “Leif and you have led us on countless raids into Ireland and Scotland with total success. I think we can assume this will be the same.”
I hated this type of talk. Cnute had become my friend and was good to be alongside in battle, but he would never lead. “Total success? We’ve become wealthy from the blood of others. Thankfully, most of that blood has been Irish and Scottish. But I don’t think the women of the five Norsemen we’ve lost in the past four years would count our raids as a total success.” I turned to see that Cnute felt guilty about his careless comment, but I thought it best to continue my point, “Cnute, we cannot assume success. Leif and I plan for success. We prepare our men and our weapons for success. We plan these boats for success. Success on this raid will come from sweat and fighting and not a little blood. Do you think Olaf has become so rich from assuming success?” Cnute made no reply. Conversation done. Point made.
We sailed east with the wind and made good time until the sun was past its peak. At that time we could see the headland of Wales at a place called Holyhead. Leif cupped his hands to us and shouted that it was time to turn south, which Magnus dutifully did at the rudder. As we headed southward, Wales gradually receded to the east, but abruptly turned back west to us after a four hour sail. The green land jutted out into the Irish Sea here like a finger pointing to the southwest. We again adjusted course to curve around the finger and saw a small island about one mile wide at the tip of that finger. Nightfall would soon be upon us so we thought it best to find a suitable place to spend the night, on or at the lee side of the island.
The island rose abruptly out of the sea on the northeast, the side from which we approached. As we traversed the west side away from the mainland it was evident that the island leveled into a flat plain. A well-tended apple orchard stretched out on the island which partially obscured several buildings. Then I saw the unmistakable cross which indicated that this was a Christian monastery at the base of the tiny mountain. “Prepare yourselves for battle men!” I shouted. They looked at me with surprise as they all thought the next order would be to prepare a meal or prepare to sleep. But they demonstrated what faithful Norsemen they were and set about adorning their heads with helmets and gathering weapons. I shouted to Leif and pointed to the monastery. He immediately understood my meaning and his men began dressing for battle.
The island was small and the monastery was isolated so we did not expect much resistance. The plan of attack in this case was simple. We would skid into the smooth stones on the shingle with our stout keels. Each captain would select four men to stay behind and man the boats. For the Boar, Magnus would stay behind today commanding three others. The rest would move directly to the monastery without delay. In these cases surprise was best.
My men grabbed their shields from the gunwale and stood along the sides to jump over as soon as the Boar came to a halt. Leif’s men were configured likewise. The keel scraped the quickly rising land and then we stopped abruptly. My feet immediately splashed into the cold shallow water and I led my men from the shore to the lush green grass of the plain. We went through the south end of the orchard while Leif and his crew went through the north end so as to envelope the buildings. Leaving the orchard behind, we jumped a short stone wall and scared off a group of pigs to the other end of their pasture. We leaped the opposite side of the fence and were in the farmyard of the monastery. A flock of chickens squawked loudly, flapping uncontrollably. So far we had seen no one.
We were still moving. I told five men to enter the nearest barn; the rest came with me into the church. Cnute kicked the heavy wooden doors which opened into a room abandoned except for an austere wooden table with a simple wooden cross atop it. I turned to move to the next building and then saw Leif and his men coming toward us.
“It’s deserted,” Leif said. “They must leave here at night for their own safety from we fearsome Norsemen. The monks probably row across that channel to the mainland to sleep.”
“Should we move to the mainland? There may be some wealth in whatever village they live,” I asked, disco
uraged.
Leif thought about it then slid his sword into its scabbard. “I think not. We have chickens and eggs for dinner tonight. We can take the pigs with us to feed us for the rest of the journey or auction off. These people clearly are used to raids and any wealth they had has already been run through the Dyflin marketplace. There will be wealth to the south.” Leif then called, “Tyrkr! Get five men and see that enough of those chickens are butchered for dinner tonight. Randulfr! Gather volunteers and some crates to catch as many of the remaining chickens that we can take with us aboard the Skull. Cnute, take the rest of the men, find some rope, and get those pigs aboard the Boar.”
“Thanks for putting the pigs on the Boar. They will make for a fine aroma,” I said with sarcasm.
“Halldorr, you are welcome. The name of your vessel is fitting, I think,” teased Leif. “Let’s get back to the boats and get some fires going for a feast.”
Chickens and pigs. It was going to be a fruitful summer.
And apples! In searching for crates to hold the still-living chickens, Randulfr found four large crates of apples in a cellar. They were loaded two each aboard our boats. This morning I stood on the Boar’s deck gnawing my way around a worm hole in one apple harvested by the monks last fall. We would enjoy the apples for the rest of the trip. In front of me in the hold my new passengers rutted, grunted, and shit. We had supplies for our journey and so would not likely need to butcher more than one of the pigs. That meant I would have all ten on board my ship for a week. With a large bite of crisp apple still in my mouth I called, “Brandr, you’ll be in charge of keeping the hold clean. I want it flushed out once a day with seawater.” He looked down at the hogs with an unpleasant expression, but looked back to me with a nod.
The tide was coming in and we would be up and away in a matter of minutes. I tossed my apple core into the weeds on the island. Beyond the weeds at the edge of the orchard I saw that several of the monks must have rowed back to their island. They gathered a safe distance away from us and just watched. I had the inexplicable urge to wave so I raised my hand. Even more curious was that one of the monks returned the gesture as we were lifted from the shingle. And so we were off.
Our course today was southwest to round the corner of Wales in order to raid from the belly beneath. We would spend the day beating to windward because of the stiff breeze in our faces. The wind brought warm air and so no one would complain about the slow progress. It also kept the men busy to adjust the rigging as we changed tack on a header. Except for a lone fishing boat, we saw no one the rest of the day and so it passed uneventfully.
Dusk was wrapping its arms around us when we finally reached the southwest corner of Wales. We rounded a head of land, on which was perched a remarkable hill, and found a beach with white sand. The beach was carved into the shoreline and was mostly protected from all but winds directly from the west. We landed here for the night.
After our meal, I wrapped in my cloak on the soft sand to sleep. Our miniature army would be safe as it was decided that Magnus and Randulfr would share the first watch. The night sky was cloudless which meant a chilly night. I stared upwards and noted a band of densely packed stars crossing the sky. My mind wandered - nowhere in particular at first - then, my father. I never knew my mother. My father raised me, loved me, and died protecting me. Erik, he took me in and avenged his best friend’s death. I travelled to far-away lands with my second father. Leif, my brother. Freydis. Freydis. I loved her once. Or, I thought I loved her. Then skraelings. Death. Exile. Olaf, my third father. Father. . .
A boot nudged my ribs to wake me. Leif whispered, “Thank the gods we have sentries. Otherwise, we would have been slaughtered years ago. Quit whimpering and wake up it’s your turn to keep watch.” He was already lying down by the time I cleared the sleep from my eyes.
I rose and walked my way north up from the beach. I decided I would climb the hill we saw from the sea which currently stood guard over all the surroundings. In a matter of minutes I was at the top. Several miles inland across a wide plain I saw the smoke trails of a small village. Nothing stirred.
My eyes were vigilant, but again my mind wandered to my father. I smiled up at the sky thinking of the first time I met Olaf. It was some time after his marriage to Gytha. Leif, Cnute, and I were celebrating something I can no longer remember in one of the many taverns inhabiting Dyflin. Olaf and some of his men were there as well. As is oft to happen when men drink and boast together, a wager ensued. I bet Olaf that I could hit the center of a target ten times with a javelin in less tries than could he. Many men in the tavern that night made side bets on me because they had become familiar with my prowess with a javelin over the previous twelve months. We clamored out of the tavern, many still carrying their drinks (including me). The group grew as we made our way beyond the city wall and past the bewildered sentries to the targets set up along the River Poddle. Leif paced off fifty steps and drew a line in the dirt. Someone gave me a javelin. I bobbed it up and down once or twice to get its balance, looked at the target, and launched the missile. My aim was true and the javelin pierced the target’s center. I smiled dumbly to Olaf who looked genuinely impressed. It was his turn after Cnute retrieved my javelin. Olaf held the same one I threw in his left hand and then reached out his empty hand to receive a second javelin placed there by one of his men. He gave me a knowing smile and then threw both at the same time. Both hit the target dead on center. We took turns like this until I had five in a row and he had ten bulls-eyes with only five throws. Olaf gladly took my small pile of coins from my purse, but told me to see him the next day. Leif and I both went to meet Olaf who employed us on the spot. We worked with him ever since. And I loved him like my father. My third father.
After two silent hours the first shreds of light began to appear in the eastern sky above the plain. It was time for a quick breakfast and to run atop the waves again. With good fortune, we would quickly find a suitable village to raid and make quick work. At times I felt we had no right to take and destroy. But then I shrugged those boyish thoughts away. Nothing was fair. If it was the destiny of the Welsh to be pillaged by Norsemen, then I would not stand in the way. I would carry out my side of the arrangement. If the Britons were as organized or as many as we were, they would be happy to do the same to us. I was banished for deaths I did not cause. Leif and I were forced to exist in this world out of necessity. Destiny.
By the time I reached the white sand, Leif had rousted the men. Salted, cold meat was our breakfast. We washed it down with ale. I enjoyed another apple as the tide came in to raise us from our position on the beach. Pigs, chickens, and apples. We had been fortunate so far, I thought sarcastically to myself.
The wind was fair today and straight out of the west. We would start cutting a path perpendicular to the wind as we drove south. Then, when we turned west under the belly of Wales, the wind would again be at our back. I hoped it would quickly propel us to a successful raid.
It did. Shortly after mid-day we saw our target.
It was a moderately sized village on the southeast side of a peninsula sticking out into the sea pointing southwest. It would be wealthy enough, that was sure for there was a church and plenty of homes of reasonable quality. Leif and I called to one another and decided to land and investigate. We both removed our mail so as not to rouse excess suspicion. As we approached I saw that a small river emptied into the sea on the east side of the village. Several boats were moored to a rickety dock about fifty feet upstream. We slowly sailed upstream and navigated our own boats against those already on the dock and tied off to them.
Our force of men would appear menacing to any village and so we were greeted by ten men coming down to the quay. They all carried weapons. “What is it you want, you Vikings?” shouted the man in the center using passable Norse. He was about fifty years old, but still had much of the brown hair from his youth. He was barrel-chested and looked like he was the town’s leader.
Leif answered, “You are right to quest
ion us, because we are a dangerous bunch.” The man’s expression quickly moved from determined anger to worry. He knew much of his town and many of his people would be gone if he had to fight us. Leif continued, “We are dangerous and we are raiders, hoping to steal and rob and probably rape.” I looked at Leif as if he were crazy, but said nothing. This was a new tactic for me; telling the truth about our intentions. “In fact, we are planning a raid on the English dogs with Sweyn Forkbeard, king of the Danes, this summer. Right now we want to buy food from you to complete our trip.”
Still concerned, the leader shouted back, “We have no food for sale. Sail on to Caerdydd to the east. They’ll provision you.”
“I’m afraid we have a timeline to keep if we are to meet with fellow raiders and kill many English,” Leif answered trying to build a common bond as the Welsh had no love of the English. “What if only two of us came ashore? We would give you our weapons and all your men could guard the dock. We pay well, in gold.”
Gold. Leif knew how to get what he wanted. The elders talked in hushed tones. Gold would help this village for the entire season, but there were still two factions. Many of the men clearly wanted no part of us, while the leader was siding with greed.
The leader cleared his throat loudly, “Only two of you may come ashore.” Several of his men wore disgusted, worried expressions. Leif casually motioned to me and I turned and put Magnus in charge of the ship. I stepped over the Boar’s and Skull’s gunwales which were tied together to join Leif. Then Leif and I both jumped from one boat to the next to reach the dock. Side by side we walked up to the assorted townsmen.
