Viking Clan

by Griff Hosker

  Viking Clan

  Book 22 in the

  Dragon Heart Series

  By

  Griff Hosker

  Published by Sword Books Ltd 2018

  Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover by Design for Writers

  Part One

  Gift from the gods

  Prologue

  Many men, especially those who lived beyond my lands, thought that when I made Sámr Ship Killer my heir that I had sowed the seeds for the destruction of the clan. They thought there would be division and strife amongst my family. That was not so. My son, Gruffyd, and grandson, Ragnar, were happy for my great grandson to lead the Clan of the Wolf. I had spoken with them both. Each had their own reasons for approving my decision. For Ragnar it meant he could be a father and, in the fullness of time, a grandfather. He could enjoy that which my son, Wolf Killer, had not enjoyed, a family life. For Gruffyd it meant he could sail the seas and raid. His son, Mordaf had not been to sea with me as much as Sámr. He envied the adventures and the tales which Sámr had told upon his return. Gruffyd and his son Mordaf, had been captured in Om Walum and that had changed Gruffyd. My son had told me he did not wish to be Jarl of the Clan of the Wolf. Part of me wondered if Gruffyd wanted to begin a new clan. Hrolf the Horseman had done so. The Clan of the Horse, so we heard, was growing and had their feet firmly planted in Frankia. I was not as close to Gruffyd as I was to Ragnar and his son. A man did not bemoan such things. He lived with them.

  We had buried Rolf Horse Killer and Olaf Leather Neck. There were now just three Ulfheonar left to follow me. There would be no more once we had passed. My great grandson was too young, yet, to lead the clan and I had no intention of leaving the Land of the Wolf, but I needed the Ulfheonar to help me teach Sámr Ship Killer how to lead. All four of us had lived longer than most warriors. Haaken One Eye, like me, had been on the earth for more than sixty-five summers. None of us knew any warrior who had lived that long. We had to make the most of our time.

  I knew what my task was. I had to make Sámr the leader of the clan. I had failed the last time I had tried to do so and merely driven Wolf Killer away from me. I would not make the same mistake again. Haaken One Eye agreed to live with me at my hall where we could teach Sámr all that he needed to know. Rollo had a family, a life beyond my walls, but there were other Ulfheonar who had been wounded. They could help me to train my great grandson. Karl Word Master and Cnut Cnutson both lived within my walls. They could aid us.

  My great grandson and his new bride lived across the Water in my old hall. We had rescued Aethelflaed from Danes who sought to use her to rule the East Angles. Many people thought that Vikings took their brides by force. Nothing could be further from the truth. Aethelflaed had chosen Sámr. Baldr Witch Saviour and his bride, Nanna, also lived in that rambling old hall. It had been my first home and had plenty of room. Baldr was the start of Sámr’s hearth weru. He would need a band of warriors who would protect him as he led the clan. I could not go to the Otherworld until he had.

  Chapter 1

  My hall was large and rambling but the household at Cyninges-tūn was small. There was just Uhtric, Atticus of Syracuse and Germund, the lame warrior we had brought back from Miklagård, who lived in my hall. The slaves and servants had their own quarters. They were closer to the palisade. It suited everyone. They did not worry about disturbing Jarl Dragonheart and I enjoyed the peace of a hall with just old men within it. I was comfortable with the two old men and the Greek. It was familiar to me and I liked familiarity. Sámr would sail across the Water each morning to begin his training. It helped hone his ship skills. Baldr wanted to come with him but I insisted that he stay at the hall and watch the women. I wanted Sámr to learn to be confident sailing the small boat across the water. Sailing was one of the skills he needed. He had to be able to read the wind and feel the current. The Water was benign. The ocean was not. Each night when he left, I would be able to go back to the comfortable world of my hall. I could play chess with Atticus and drink the strong wine I liked. I could watch the fire and I could remember.

  When Uhtric died the balance and harmony of my home were ruined. I should not have been surprised. He had been with me since Erika had been alive. Yet I thought he would always be there. He was familiar and another link to my past. When he became ill Kara, my daughter and chief volva, came to see him but she could do nothing for him. She told me that it was just old age. She told me that he would die. He had looked after my home and kept my hall ready for me whenever I sailed to sea. He and Germund were the ones who chopped my wood and prepared my food. Germund was almost like a brother to Uhtric. Atticus the Greek had less in common with him but, as the three of us sat with the old man as he began to slip away, he was tearful. He was a Greek and they were not as stoic as Vikings. I was sad and I hoped that there would be a place in the Otherworld for Uhtric but I did not know.

  My oldest servant had been silent for a little time and I wondered if he had drifted to the Otherworld. His eyes opened as he gripped my fingers, “Jarl Dragonheart I have a boon to ask. I am dying or else I would not be so bold and I expect you to say no but I must ask anyway.”

  I smiled. That was Uhtric’s way. He never wished to be a bother to anyone. “Old friend, ask.”

  “I would like to hold the blade that was touched by the gods before I die. I know that I am not a warrior but I have lived most of my life in the shadow of that sword…”

  I stood. “Of course.” It hung on the wall. I sent Germund to fetch it and the old Roman sword I had taken from the cave in the land of the Walhaz. I put the hilt of the sword that was touched by the gods in his hands and laid the other along his body. The ancient sword looked battered and weary but it had saved my life in the cave in Om Walum when I had fought the witch. I wondered if it might do the same for Uhtric.

  When his thin, blue fingers gripped the hilt of Ragnar’s Spirit, a smile came over him. “I feel power racing through my body. I feel…” His head drooped to one side although his eyes remained open and the smile was fixed upon his face. He was dead.

  Atticus put his ear to Uhtric’s mouth and shook his head. “Did the sword kill him?” Atticus was a man of logic and science but since he had come to the Land of the Wolf, he had observed things which he could not explain.

  “Perhaps. I think it was Odin. The sword in his hands meant he could take him to Valhalla. Uhtric was not a warrior but Valhalla needs servants to serve ale and mead.”

  “But he was not Norse.”

  “I am not Norse. My father was Saxon and my mother of the old people. Odin does not mind for he is the Allfather to all men. The sword gained him entry.”

  “And why did you put the old blade upon his body, lord?”

  I took both swords from Uhtric and closed his eyes, “In truth, Germund, I know not why save that I heard a voice in my head tell me to do so. I never ignore such voices. I saw the power which this sword held when I fought the witch. She called the blue stones, Odin’s stones. They may help his passage to the Otherworld. It may be that as the sword is from the old people of this land, it seems to have powers which are as great as Ragnar’s Spirit. I know not. It is done and now we must put my old friend in the ground.” I hung the swords back on the wall. “I tir
e of burying friends.” Rolf and Olaf were still raw scars in my heart.

  Even though he was not Norse we buried him the way all the dead of the clan were buried. We dug a grave and lined the outside with stones to make the shape of a boat. Dressed in his best we carried him to the grave. He had lost much weight in his last months of life and Sámr, Atticus, Germund and I easily managed to carry him to his resting place. We laid him on his side and brought his knees up to his chin. We placed around him all the things he loved. We buried the spice chest and the key. He had felt proud that he was in charge of the spices. We had none left for we had neither traded or raided the hot lands for some time. The knife he used to carve meat was placed with him as was the wooden cross he had kept in his sleeping chamber. He had been a follower of the White Christ. Since the death of my second wife, Brigid, he had worshipped in secret. We had no priest to say Christian words over him. He would have to do with mine. When all was placed around him then each man in the village put soil upon him until he was covered. Then we covered the grave with the turf we had cut to make the grave. Atticus sprinkled the seeds of wild thyme upon the turf. It was a herb which Uhtric had loved and some of the seeds would take. As the years went on the grave would become a blue and green haven for bees and that would please Uhtric who loved their honey.

  After I had said words over him, Atticus mumbled some Latin. Atticus was a Christian too. When all was done, we went to the house of the ale wife, Agnete. I had bought two barrels of beer and the men of my town would celebrate Uhtric’s life. In my clan everyone was valued, slave or lord. It made no difference. I stood with Haaken One Eye, Aðils Shape Shifter, Atticus, Germund and Sámr. Kara and her daughter Ylva came over to speak with me.

  “Father, will you take another servant?”

  I shook my head. “No Kara. I am too old to get used to another in my hall. Atticus and Germund can see to my needs.” Atticus nodded. “You have no plans to die have you?”

  He laughed, “I will do my best, lord to outlive you although that would be a prodigious feat.”

  “Good.” I noticed that Aiden was not with his wife and daughter. He had been unwell for some time. Turning to Kara I said, “Aiden is no better?”

  She said, simply, “He is dying. We three know that. In your heart, father, you know it too. If he had been well, he would have travelled to Om Walum with you to rescue Gruffyd.”

  I shook my head, “If Aiden goes then the only friend I have left from the old days will be Haaken.”

  Ylva linked her arm through mine, “Grandfather, there are new friends to replace them. There is Sámr and me also. Do not dismiss us so lightly.”

  I squeezed her arm, “And I do not. It is just that I shared experiences with Aiden that can never be replicated.”

  “Then remember those days. My father is not unhappy for he is going to the Otherworld.” She reached up and put her palm on my forehead. “You will hear his voice here. He will be with you always.”

  Kara took Ylva’s arm, “Come daughter, let us go and minister to your father. We will leave these warriors to drink and celebrate Uhtric. He is at peace now and in the Otherworld.” She smiled at me, “He is content.”

  Haaken One Eye did not like to dwell on maudlin matters. He looked at Sámr and said, “Well Sámr Ship Killer, we had best begin your training. None of us are getting any younger and I yearn for action. What say you, Dragonheart? Should we not raid with him. That is the best training in the world!”

  I laughed, “Aye I know but while it is still winter and cold grips the land, let us give him skills which he will need. Rollo Thin Skin can teach him to use the sword and the spear. Haaken can teach him how to make up songs and Aðils Shape Shifter can show him how to disappear in plain sight!”

  “I can do that, Jarl Dragonheart, but remember that my days of raiding are ended. I have a wife and a family. I am happy to give you this month but when the new grass shows then I will be back to my farm.”

  “Then we begin Sámr’s training with you. Winter is always the hardest time to hide anyway.” I turned to Sámr. “I give you to Aðils Shape Shifter for the next seven days. That will give Haaken, Rollo and myself the opportunity to plan the rest of your training.”

  Sámr looked serious, “I am ready, great grandfather. I know that I bear a great burden and if I am to fill your boots then I must change.” He tapped his heart and his head, “In here and in here.” He went with Aðils Shape Shifter to his home up Lang’s Dale. Haaken went back to his wife to make arrangements to come and live with me. He was away but one night. Haaken knew the importance of my task and was keen to make a start.

  I found I missed Uhtric more than I cared to admit. I had woken, each morning when I was in my hall, to Uhtric. Germund tried his best but he was a warrior. Uhtric had always been my servant. He knew my ways. Sometimes he knew I wanted the steam hut before I did. He knew I did not like to talk before I ate. He knew which foods I liked. His porridge was something special. With a mixture of fruit and nuts, depending upon the season and flavoured with honey, it was something I could never have again. I was a warrior and not a cook. Germund was not Uhtric and so I ate different food. It unsettled me and distracted me from the work of training Sámr. It was fortunate that Aðils had him for those few days. I am an old man and old men have strange fantasies. I began to wonder if there was a curse upon my land. I had had my son and grandson kidnapped by a witch and two of my closest warriors had died. I was glad when Haaken One Eye returned and my hall seemed less empty.

  The thought of a curse became stronger when Ylva summoned me to Aiden’s side. My galdramenn was dying. Uhtric had been in the ground for just three days. Aiden’s wife and daughter seemed remarkably calm about the impending death. They led me into his hall and the chamber Aiden and Kara shared. It was lit by some of the candles we had taken from the churches of the White Christ. The room was bathed in a soft golden light. It was when I saw Aiden’s face that I realised why they appeared so unconcerned. He looked content. For the last weeks, as the illness from within him had consumed his body, he had looked pained. Now he looked peaceful. I had left Haaken and the others outside. They could speak with him but I needed words with him first. He smiled as I entered.

  “Dragonheart, it is good that you have never changed. A man can read your thoughts by simply looking at your face. This is not a time for mourning but to rejoice. I leave this pain wracked body and I go to join the spirits. I will still enjoy this valley of ours and the Water of Cyninges-tūn. I will watch over my oldest friend, my wife and my daughter.”

  “I do not want you to go. I have lost too many old friends already.” I know I sounded like a petulant child but I could not help it.

  “The sisters have spun and your thread is a strong one. I knew when the healer in Miklagård opened up your body that you would live longer than most of us. Only Ylva will outlive you.”

  I had a sudden and chilling thought, “Sámr!”

  “I have not dreamed his death and he will lead the clan when you go to Valhalla.”

  “Then I go to Valhalla?”

  “Even without your sword Odin would welcome you but fear not, the sword that was touched by the gods will be in your hand.” He coughed and I saw a spasm of pain. “I have not much time. Dragonheart, old friend, I have a request. It is strange that it is almost the same request which Uhtric made. I would be buried with the old sword you found in the bottom of the cavern in Walhaz.”

  I frowned. I had thought the old rusted blade was a link to my past. I was reluctant to give it to Aiden and in that moment, I heard the voice, in my head, of my mother, ‘Let it go!’ “Of course.”

  He nodded, “When you told me the tale of the cave and the stones then I began to see that I had been blind all these years. Ragnar’s Spirit is a powerful weapon. It is a weapon of war. That old and rusted one is the sword which holds power. You took it from the ground. It needs to be returned to the ground.”

  “I will fetch it.”

  He shoo
k his head and held out his hands for Kara and Ylva. They seemed to know what was coming, “I need it not now. I am no warrior. There is no place in Valhalla for me. Odin does not need a galdramenn. The Land of the Wolf needs me. I just needed to know that you would let it go. I will watch over it until it is needed again.” He gave a smile. “Farewell, wife. I will see you soon.”

  Kara leaned over to kiss him, “You are the only man I would have married. The sisters chose well for me.”

  “Daughter, you know what you have to do? We have placed a heavy burden upon your shoulders.”

  “I am the daughter of the greatest galdramenn to walk the earth and the most powerful volva. If this task is not meant for me then who?”

  He nodded, “Farewell, Dragonheart. My life has been fulfilled walking in your shadow. Know that from now, until the end of your days, I will be your shadow but a shadow that you cannot see, only hear.” His eyes closed and there was a soft sigh. He died. I could not believe it had happened so quickly. It was almost as though he had chosen his own moment to pass on. There was barely time for a goodbye.

  I had no time to speak even if I could have forced words beyond the lump in my throat for the most remarkable thing happened. I swear that Aiden’s body lifted from the bed upon which he lay. The candles all flickered as though a breeze had blown through the chamber. That was impossible for the doors were all closed. Then the body slowly sank and Kara and Ylva folded his hands across his body.

  “It is done, father. My husband is in the spirit world. The warriors may come and see his body then we must bury him. Fetch the sword and have a boat made ready. He will be buried close by my mother.”

  I walked out, stunned. I barely saw my men. I just nodded and said, “You may go within.” I walked to my hall and Atticus stood looking worried. “Have two boats brought here to the quay. Fetch some mattocks and spades. We bury Aiden.”