Viking Warrior

by Judson Roberts

  “It happened on a day late in the waning summer. I was reading in the library at the monastery. Suddenly I became aware of cries of alarm coming from out in the courtyard. When I ran to the window and looked out, I saw that Northmen were attacking and had already breached the gate. A few of the monks tried to resist, but they were not warriors. The Northmen cut them down without mercy, and the rest surrendered without a fight.

  “I tried to hide. I pulled a chair into a corner of the library, stacked it and the floor around with books and scrolls, then crouched behind, trembling with fear and praying desperately to God to make me invisible to the heathen eyes of the pirates. My efforts were, of course, to no avail. One of the pirates found me. I still remember how he looked, and how he smelled of sweat and blood. He dragged me from my hiding place, threw me on my back on the table in the library, pulled my skirts up over my head and was going to rape me then and there. I was screaming—I did not know so much sound was in me. The pirate’s chieftain heard the noise and came to investigate, and stopped the man from raping me.

  “The pirate chieftain was Hrorik, your father. He was thinner then through the body, and his beard and hair were still a rich, yellow gold, without a trace of gray. By the other pirate’s deference to him, I realized he must be a leader, and by his grand appearance I could see he was a man of substance: a highly polished helm crowned his head, and a fine shirt of mail covered his breast, with a richly woven red cloak pinned at one shoulder and hanging down his back. It is strange how vividly that first image of him still lives in my mind. I remember too that he carried a long Danish war-axe in one hand. It was the first time I had seen such a weapon.

  “When Hrorik stopped my attacker from raping me, I thought perhaps he had been sent by God to save me, in answer to my prayers. I thought perhaps he was a Christian, and that was why he’d intervened. I soon realized I was wrong. He began touching me, feeling the cloth of my dress, and turning my head from side to side, studying my face. Then he ran a hand through my hair and bent down and smelled it. When he did that I believed he had stopped the other man merely to take his place, and I began screaming again.

  “Hrorik looked startled for a moment by the volume of noise I was producing. Then he smiled. It was not an evil smile. He was genuinely amused, and his humor showed in his eyes. He put one hand across my mouth to muffle me. His other hand he freed by hooking the blade of his axe on the edge of the table, then he raised a finger to his lips and spoke a word that was common to both our languages.

  “‘Shush!’ he said, then ‘shush’ again. It was the first word your father spoke to me. It is a word I’ve heard from him many times since.

  “Why did he stop the warrior from raping you?” I asked.

  “Much later, after I learned the language of the Northmen, I asked Hrorik that. He told me he could tell I was a valuable prize, either the daughter or wife of a noble, and worth much ransom. He said he’d stopped the man only because damaged goods bring a lower price at market. He had not intended to show me kindness, only to protect my value.”

  If my mother believed her tale would improve my opinion of my father, so far it had not.

  “I was taken down to the courtyard of the monastery,” she continued, “where the pirates were tying the hands of their captives, and roping us together in pairs. Abbot Aidan was among the prisoners, and I was tied together with him.

  “Aidan was a very learned man, with a great gift for tongues. As a young man, before he dedicated his life to God and the church, he’d left home seeking adventure, and had sailed the northern seas for many years on a vessel owned by a Frankish merchant from the trading port of Dorestad. During that time he’d learned the language of the Northmen. His knowledge allowed him, during those early days of our captivity, to converse with our captors and to explain to me their plans for us. He confirmed to Hrorik that I was indeed of noble birth, and in fact was the daughter of King Caidoc who ruled over the surrounding lands. Hrorik was much pleased by the news.

  “‘The Lord is watching over you, Derdriu my child,’ Aidan told me after speaking with Hrorik. ‘You will be freed unharmed. It is only a matter of time, for the pirates’ chieftain must contact your father and arrange for a ransom to be paid. The pirates intend to ransom me, too. Your father and the abbots of the other monasteries across the land will all contribute to free a churchman of my rank who has been taken captive.’

  “Aidan sighed heavily and looked sadly at the monks standing near us. ‘My children are not so fortunate. I fear no one can afford to pay for the safe return of all of them. Some at least, perhaps all, are doomed to a life of slavery.’ Aidan was a kindly man, and the fate of the monks he’d led worried him. I could feel only relief for my own fate, knowing that soon I would be free.”

  Mother shook her head sadly. “It was not to be,” she said. “The pirates marched us like a herd of stolen cattle across country toward the river where they’d left their ship. My father learned of the raid on the monastery and my capture. He had no way of knowing, of course, that Hrorik was protecting me from harm and intended to exchange me for ransom. Gathering such force as he could assemble on short notice, he set out in pursuit. Because of the necessity for speed, only those warriors wealthy enough to own war-chariots or fine, fast mounts joined father’s would-be band of avengers. By chance—unfortunate chance, as it proved—my betrothed, Kilian, and his father, King Frial, were out hunting with a small retinue of their followers, and encountered my father and his men as they were racing after the Danes. They, of course, joined in the pursuit, though they were not equipped for war.

  “My father and his men caught up with the pirates before they reached the safety of the river and their ship. As they neared, Father’s men signaled their coming with peals of their war horns, perhaps thinking to give us captives hope and to throw fear into the hearts of the pirates.

  “A shallow stream cut through the meadow we were crossing when the horns first warned of the approach of Father and his men. Because of the dryness that summer the water in the stream came no higher than our ankles, but in wetter seasons the stream ran swiftly. Over many years, its waters had cut the channel of the streambed as deep as the waist of a grown man. At Hrorik’s command, the pirates crossed it and began forming for battle on the far bank. Hrorik assembled half of his men in a battle line, standing shoulder to shoulder with the prisoners huddled behind. The other half of his force concealed themselves below the edge of the stream’s bank. All of the men who lay hidden were armed with bows or spears.

  “Barely had the pirates concealed themselves when Father and his men swept into view. When Hrorik saw them as they rounded the base of a low hill, riding in their chariots, he threw back his head and laughed. His laughter chilled my heart. A cheer burst from the throats of my father’s men when they saw us. Because fully half of the Danes were hidden from sight, my father’s warriors must have thought their victory was assured.

  “What followed was not so much a battle as a slaughter. The chariots could not cross the barrier created by the streambed. As they drew nearer and saw it, their drivers began sawing furiously at their reins, trying to slow their horses’ headlong charge. The warriors on horseback galloped on, undeterred. Then the hidden pirates rose from their place of concealment below the edge of the bank and let their missiles fly.

  “Almost the entire front rank of horses in the charge went down, felled by the deadly fire. The chariots and horses rushing behind could not stop in time to avoid them. Instantly all was chaos as the second wave of the charge collided with the sudden barrier of dead and dying mounts. Some of the chariots flipped, cart over horse, flinging their drivers like stones shot from a catapult. Others, trying desperately to turn aside, skidded sideways till their wheels caught in the soft turf and their carriages rolled, crushing their human cargo. A few skilled riders on horseback—my betrothed, Kilian, was among them—vaulted over the mass of wreckage and injured, raced past the first group of Danes, and crossed the streambed to
the battle line beyond on the far bank. They were too few, though. The pirates’ line held firm and cut them down. I saw Kilian fall with a spear through his side.

  “Not all of the Irish warriors were killed, of course. Those in the rear of the charge were able to turn aside in time. But when they saw so many their own men get cut to ribbons, and realized how large was the band of Danes who opposed them, they turned and fled.

  “Unfortunately, my father and King Frial, who were both brave men, had been leading the charge. In a few brief and bloody moments, everyone who might have paid ransom to the pirates and won my freedom was killed.

  “We prisoners waited beside the stream bed all afternoon under guard, while the Danes pillaged the battlefield. They stripped the bodies of their valuables, their weapons, and sometimes even their clothes. We stood and watched, numb and despairing, making no sound except when Abbot Aidan led the monks in prayers for the dead. It was when the pirates were robbing the bodies of the slain that they found two men wearing circlets of gold. Hrorik realized the significance of the find. He brought Abbot Aidan and me to where they lay, and we confirmed that one of the dead men was my father, and the other King Frial. After we did, Hrorik spoke a while, then pointed at me, indicating that Aidan should tell me what he’d said.

  “‘The chieftain says to tell you that he is sorry, for your sake, for the death of your father, but such is the way of war.’ Aidan said. ‘He also said it will be awkward if there is no one left to pay your ransom.’ Abbot Aidan looked uncomfortable as he spoke these last words. Well he should have, for they filled me with fury.

  “I answered Hrorik, while Abbot Aidan translated. ‘Awkward? It is far more than awkward,’ I told him. ‘For both of us your victory will prove costly. On this field of battle not only does my father lie slain, but also my betrothed, and his father, too. My doom is upon me. I who was once a princess shall now become a slave, and no doubt shall die as one. I can only pray that death finds me soon. You have but lost a ransom. I feel as though my heart has been ripped from my breast.’

  “That night, the Danes held a great feast on the bank of the river where their ship was moored. They roasted meat from the horses killed in the battle, and drank heavily from casks of ale they’d forced the monks to carry from the monastery.

  “We captives were forced to sit huddled in a tight group, off to one side of the bonfire the Danes had built. There were more prisoners than just those of us who’d been taken in the attack on the monastery. The pirates had apparently raided as they’d moved upriver, for more than a score of other prisoners who’d been previously captured, mostly women and a few children, were confined with us.

  “As the feast wore on into the night, several times Danes left the circle of their fellows around the fire, staggered over to the prisoners, and, after searching among the frightened faces, led one woman prisoner or another off into the shadows, to the sound of sobbing and occasional screams. After this had happened several times the awkwardness which Hrorik had spoken of manifested itself.

  “The pirate who had found me in the monastery, a tall, lanky Dane with long, greasy black hair hanging down around his shoulders, and dressed in a dirty brown woolen tunic and trousers, stood up and forced his way into the crowd of prisoners. He stopped in front of me and spoke some words. There was no reason he should have expected me to understand, but he was obviously drunk, so perhaps his wits were dimmed by ale.

  “‘What does he want?’ I asked Aidan in a frightened whisper, though in my heart I knew.

  “‘He is telling you to come with him,’ Aidan said. ‘He says since no one can ransom you, you are his property now.’

  “Hrorik, who was seated on the far side of the fire, stood up and strode over to where my captor was standing. The two of them argued back and forth for a time, their voices growing louder and angrier. Finally the black-haired Dane shook his head, shouted one final word, and grabbed me by my arm, pulling me to my feet. I sobbing by this time, and pleading with him to leave me alone, though of course the Dane could understand nothing I said.

  “Suddenly Hrorik slapped my captor hard across the face with the back of his hand. The man staggered back and shouted furiously at Hrorik. Whatever it was that he said brought a grim smile to Hrorik’s face. Then both men turned and walked away.

  “‘What is happening?’ I asked Aidan.

  “‘The chieftain,’ he explained, ‘offered to buy you from the other pirate. He kept offering a higher and higher price, but the black-haired Dane refused. Then the chieftain slapped him. Among their people, it is a deadly insult. The other Dane had no choice but to challenge the chieftain to a duel. They have gone to arm themselves.

  “The fight was brief. My captor was armed with a spear and shield, plus a long knife stuck in his belt. He had no helm nor armor. I suspect he was too poor to afford them. Perhaps to make the fight appear more fair, Hrorik also wore no armor, and did not even carry a shield. He entered the ring the pirates formed around the fire armed only with his sword, yet the thin Dane clearly was afraid. He kept moving away from Hrorik, backing around the circle while Hrorik followed, stalking him. Suddenly, with a fierce cry, my captor leaped forward, stabbing his spear at Hrorik’s chest. Hrorik also leaped forward, slapping the spear aside with the flat of his sword. With his empty hand, he grabbed the rim of the black-haired Dane’s shield and, heaving mightily on it, slung him to the ground. As he struggled to regain his feet, Hrorik’s sword swung down, and the duel was ended.

  “A short time later, Hrorik approached us, pushing his way through the prisoners, who by now were huddled tightly together against the coolness of the night air. I cowered behind Abbot Aidan, fearing Hrorik had come to claim the prize he’d won. When he reached our position and stood over me, though, he did naught but hold out a heavy woolen cloak. After I cautiously took it, he spoke briefly with Aidan, then returned to the celebration at the fire.

  “Abbot Aidan and I wrapped the cloak around our shoulders, grateful for its warmth. ‘What did he say?’ I asked.

  “‘He said the night would be cold and the cloak would keep you warm.’

  “‘Is that all he said?’ I asked, suspicious.

  “‘He said you need fear no longer. He said to tell you his name is Hrorik, and now you are under his protection.’

  “The next morning, the Danes rowed their ship back downriver to the sea. When they reached the coast, they raised the sail and set a course away from land. The other women prisoners, and even some of the men, began wailing and crying. I was silent, though. I had no strength left in my spirit for such displays. I just watched quietly as the green hills of Ireland slowly receded until finally I could see them no more. In my heart I knew I would never see my home again.

  “Abbot Aidan became quite agitated when we sailed away from land. He called frantically to Hrorik, reminding him that the church would pay ransom to win his freedom. Hrorik, who was manning the ship’s steering oar and setting our course, ignored him until we had passed beyond sight of land. The he called another of the crew to take over steering the ship, and came to where Aidan, now dejected and silent, was sitting beside me among the other prisoners.

  “Hrorik squatted down beside us and spoke. When he’d finished, Aidan told me what he’d said. ‘This black-hearted pirate has told me I am not to be ransomed after all. He says he finds my knowledge of the different tongues of men to be of value, and he’s decided to keep me for himself as a slave in his own household. He says he wants me to teach you to speak the tongue of the Northmen, too.’

  “Hrorik spoke again briefly to Aidan, then looked expectantly at me.

  “‘The chieftain asks that you speak your name to him, so that he may learn how to say it,’ Aidan told me.

  “‘Derdriu,’ I said. Then, because Hrorik looked puzzled at the sound, I repeated it again, more slowly: ‘Derdriu.’

  “Hrorik nodded. ‘Derdriu,’ he repeated softly several times. Then he spoke rapidly for a few moments with Aidan, and rose
as if to leave.

  “‘The chieftain has ordered me to begin your lessons immediately,’ Aidan said bitterly. “He said he hopes to be able to speak directly with you by the time our voyage is ended. To speed our progress, neither of us will have any other duties while we are onboard his ship.’

  “I looked at Hrorik with disbelief. ‘Am I to understand that conversation is all that will be required of me?’ I asked.

  “Abbot Aidan said nothing. Hrorik indicated that he should translate my words, and waited impatiently for him to do so. When Aidan had finished, Hrorik answered brusquely.

  “‘When we reach land, you also are to be a slave in his household,’ Aidan translated. ‘There, everyone works, including him. You will care for his children. Their mother recently died.’ Aidan looked embarrassed and paused for a moment, then continued. ‘He said to tell you that he understands what you fear. He said that if he wished to take you by force, he would have done so already. It is not his desire. He says he does not understand his own heart and head in this matter, for you are very beautiful, and he is used to taking what he wants.’”

  My mother drank some water from a cup she’d brought to her bed. Her tale left me astonished. I did not recognize the man she’d been describing as the Hrorik I’d known, and I told her so. I, too, thought of Hrorik as a man who had cared little for the wishes of others, and had claimed as his own whatever he wanted.

  “That is why I felt the need to tell you this,” she replied. “Whatever else Hrorik was, or what he became, he is your father. And I would not have you go through life believing you were a bastard-child who was the result of rape, rather than conceived in love.”

  “In love!” I exclaimed. This was too much to believe. “How can that be so?” I demanded.

  “In those days, Hrorik did not have this large estate, which he acquired with Gunhild’s dowry. Then he had only a smaller farm in the north on the Limfjord. Although it was small, there was a homey air of comfort about it that this greater estate lacks.