Viking Clan

by Griff Hosker

  He nodded as he ate, “Some told me that it was harder fighting on a ship than they had expected.

  “And there is no way that you can practise that skill on land. Your men will learn or they will die.” He had filled his mouth again. “You will need oathsworn. I was lucky I was Ulfheonar and they became my hearth weru. You will need to find those who would be oathsworn.”

  He finished chewing. Some of the limpets had been more than a little tough. “Baldr already swore an oath. As for the others? I think that I will wait until we have returned from this voyage. Some may not meet my standards and, for others, I may not meet theirs. The promise that we make each other is for life as Olaf and Rolf showed.”

  I nodded but said nothing. My great grandson was showing more wisdom than either of my sons and my grandson. They had been too eager to have oathsworn warriors. I saw now that it had been my fault. I had made them think that hearth weru were easy to find and they were not. After he had eaten Sámr left me to lie amongst those like Baldr with whom he had fought. Already they were reliving each blow from the battle. Sámr just sat by the fire and listened. He was the first to cover himself with his cloak and to sleep. He was showing wisdom. I sat and watched for a while and then I too lay down to sleep. We were still within the shadow of Wyddfa and I dreamed.

  I was in my hall and I watched the fire as it slowly died. I looked at my hands and they were wrinkled and veined. Suddenly the fire which had been dying began to grow. The flames licked the walls of my hall and it became shrouded in smoke. The smoke was so thick that I could not see the fire. Blindly I ran for the door, or where I thought the door should have been. The smoke was like dragon smoke. It shocked and it blinded. When I burst out of the door, I saw that Cyninges-tūn was on fire. People lay dying and I heard screams. Then I saw them. They were Danes and they were led by Sven the Boneless. Even as I watched I saw Karl Word Master slain and Cnut Cnutson tumble from my walls and then they came for me. I was surrounded and all that I had was Ragnar’s Spirit. Then a hawk swooped down as Sven the Boneless swashed his sword at my head. I fell and I fell into darkness.

  Chapter 5

  When I woke, I found that I was bathed in sweat. Dawn had yet to break but I saw a lightness in the sky. The dream had been a warning. Aiden had taught me that much about dreams but he had always interpreted them for me. He was in the spirit world now. Perhaps he had sent the message and hoped that I would decipher it. I could not while I was not at home, I needed Kara and Ylva. As I had been the subject of the attacks then so long as I was at sea my home was safe. The dream had stirred the memories of the Danes I had fought. I had slain too many of them both in the Land of the East Angles and in Dyflin. They would neither forgive nor forget. They were Vikings. They saw me as old and every enemy wanted my sword. I had often thought about throwing it into the ocean as we sailed but I knew that would anger the gods and make the Norns vengeful. The sword was both a blessing and a curse.

  I made water and then went to the ship. Erik, one of the ship’s boys, was standing at the gangplank. “Is there aught amiss, Jarl?”

  “No Erik. I woke and at my age that means I cannot return to sleep. I will sharpen my sword.”

  He nodded and then said, hesitantly, in a quiet voice that expected a negative reply, “Jarl, could I touch the sword, please, Jarl Dragonheart?”

  I smiled, “What for? Would you have some of its strength?”

  He shook his head, “I am scrawny, jarl. At home they called me a runt. My father was not a big man. I am not meant to wield such a sword. But I would like to touch it so that a little of its magic may come into my life.”

  I took it from its scabbard and let him hold it, “When I was younger than you, I was also someone who was so small that a good wind would blow me away. Work at your arms. I hewed trees in Norway for Old Ragnar and that gave me strength.” He was holding the sword and he nodded, barely able to speak. The sword had that effect. Even after all these years I still felt the power of the gods race up my arms when I wielded it.

  Erik Short Toe awoke and shouted, “Dawn is almost upon us, rise!”

  Erik, the ship’s boy, looked up at me. The moment of magic was gone. He reverently handed me the sword, “Thank you Dragonheart. I was afraid to ask you.”

  “Never be afraid to ask for anything, Erik, the worst that could happen would be that someone might say no. If that happens then you are no worse off and they may say yes. Just because I am jarl does not mean that I do not know what it is like to be a ship’s boy. Remember, I began my life as a slave. The way we end our lives is in our own hands.”

  I went to the whetstone and began to sharpen the blade. Erik Short Toe came over to me, “Did Erik Galmrsson bother you?”

  “No, he wanted to hold the sword. What is his story?”

  “His father was Raibeart ap Pasgen’s wife’s brother. The family came from Orkneyjar. Galmr Hrolfsson was his name. He was almost a dwarf and that is strange for his sister, Gefneir, who married Raibeart, was a beauty and tall.”

  I nodded, “I remember her now. I did not know she had a brother.”

  “They kept to themselves and lived up the river from the shipyard. He fished. They only had the one child. The two died last winter. It was some disease. There was no talk of violence. Erik came to me to ask for help for he had woken and found them dead. Poor bairn did not know what to do. We buried them and took him in. He had no other family.”

  “Raibeart?”

  He shook his head, “Gefneir was embarrassed about her brother. I like Raibeart but his wife?” He shook his head. “How could you abandon someone of your own blood? I do not think Raibeart knew of it. He was raiding the men of Walhaz when this happened. Erik now shares a sleeping chamber with Arne.”

  I nodded, “I spoke to him and I think he would be a warrior rather than a sailor.”

  “He will be too small.”

  “That is in the hands of the gods. When we return home, if he will, I will take him to my home. Kara and Ylva may be able to help him grow.”

  “That is kind and we will miss him for, despite his misfortune, he is a cheerful lad. My wife dotes on him but that, I think, is because she feels sorry for him. And she said it was a sign that he had the same name as me. He is like the lame animals she finds and tries to bring back to life.” He shook his head, “She always fails but I love the fact that she tries. I married a good woman.” Erik Short Toe and his wife were well suited. This would be Erik’s last voyage for when ‘Heart’ retired so would he. The couple would enjoy a happy life with grandchildren. He had deserved it. They both had for she had brought up the family while he was away at sea.

  We headed south and for the first three days the sun shone enough to help Sámr and Erik Short Toe navigate. Then, on the fourth night, the skies began to pour forth a deluge of rain. The winds and the seas were no worse but the decks swam with water. I covered myself in my seal skin cape and my cloak but even the old sail did not stop all the rain. The good news was that we were able to fill the empty ale barrels with rainwater. That way the water would have the vague taste of ale.

  It rained, intermittently, for two days and by the end of the storm all of us were soaked through. The lack of sun and stars meant that although we knew we were heading, south, our exact position was unclear. Erik Short Toe asked for Sámr and I to join him at the steering board. He looked from me to my great grandson, “We have a choice. We continue south or we head east.” He pointed to the pennant flying from the masthead, “Now might be a good time to head east as the wind will aid us. It may change soon, we do not know. The trouble is we do not know where we will make landfall.”

  I said nothing for I wanted Sámr to make the decision. He looked from me to Erik and then to the pennant. He nodded, “The Norns have spun. They sent the rain so that we would be unclear about our position and they need me to make a decision. Head south and east, Erik.”

  Erik Short Toe shook his head, “No Sámr Ship Killer, you are ready to take the steerin
g board. You take us south and east.”

  It was one of those moments which decide a warrior’s future. He nodded and took the steering board, “Prepare to come about. Ship’s boys to the sheets.” He pushed the steering board over and we headed towards the land of the Moors and Arabs. If we had miscalculated then we would hit Africa. That would not be a disaster but Sámr would fret about it. I hoped we would make landfall in the land taken over by the followers of Islam. The Franks had lost it and the fanatics from the east had begun to eat into the land of the west.

  We noticed, as we headed on our new course, that the air was warmer and there was less rain. We had no idea when we would hit land but all of us hoped that we had missed Syllingar. Of course, the witch could still entrap us but that possibility seemed remote out here in the empty ocean where the only sea birds we saw were solitary and high in the sky. The odd bird overhead and the fish in the sea were different from those we were used to. We saw more dolphins and there were sharks. The ones we saw were bigger than we had seen before. This was new to us all and the sides of the drekar were lined as the crew watched the water become slightly less grey and a little bluer.

  The exceptions were Erik Short Toe and Sámr. They worked more hours than anyone. Erik was devolving more and more responsibility to Sámr as the voyage progressed. Here, I could not help my great grandson. He had done nothing wrong but if he was to make a mistake then it should be one he made rather than one I advised.

  I spent time contemplating the threads the Norns had spun. The blue stones had saved me from the witch and yet there were none on the blade. As I fingered the pommel, I realised that when he had touched the blade Odin had chosen me. His stones around my neck had saved me. They were on the sword which now slept with Aiden and were a link to the past, my past. What was Odin’s purpose for me? It was Baldr who gave me the answer. I saw him practising with Bergil. Baldr was not of our people for he had come from a land far from the sea in the hot plains. Aiden had come from Hibernia. I had come from the Dunum. Brigid, my deceased wife, came from Dyfed. Aethelflaed came from the land of the East Angles. Germund was from Miklagård. Atticus was a Greek, as had been Josephus. Raibeart was from the old people and Ebrel and Bronnen from the land of Om Walum. My task was to be the blacksmith who forged those disparate people into one blade. I needed to make my people a clan who would survive. We had to become an island against the Danes, the Mercians, the Picts and the Hibernians.

  The winds eased after a day or two and our progress was slower. Erik, however, became more hopeful of landfall. “Dragonheart I can smell the land. That is something I cannot teach Sámr. He will learn it, perhaps.” He turned to Stig, one of the elder ship’s boys, “Tell the ship’s boys there will be a silver penny for the first to truly sight land!”

  That was all the incentive the boys needed. They eagerly peered towards the horizon, their young eyes seeking the smudge which would tell them of land. I joined Erik Short Toe and Sámr by the steering board. “You have almost successfully passed the first part of this test. Thus far you have learned to navigate. The voyage home will be the last test.”

  He nodded and I studied the man who would lead my clan when I had gone. He was a man but he still had growing to do. He had not spent much time at the oars and was not as broad as some of the others his age. He and Baldr looked different. They were leaner. Sámr reminded me of me when I had been his age. I had not spent as long at the oars as others. I had had to learn to fight differently. I used my head and Sámr would have to do the same.

  Haaken joined us. He was becoming bored. He had no Olaf Leather Neck to tease. He had no one with whom to banter. The warriors on the drekar were in awe of one of the last of the Ulfheonar and Dragonheart’s shadow. He was eager to get to land and to use his skills, “Well, Sámr Ship Killer, where do we land?”

  I sighed. Haaken was blunt. I had not wanted pressure on Sámr. My great grandson, however, just smiled, “Let us look at the charts and see eh, Haaken One Eye?” The chest with the maps was between my chest and Erik Short Toe’s. He opened it and took out one tied with a piece of blue cord. Erik had made Sámr copy all of the maps from Whale Island before we had left. It had taken him many hours but the act of replicating them had seared them in his mind. Our maps were simple things. They showed rivers, landmarks and settlements. Their names were not the names the locals used they were ours. Josephus had used the proper names and so Erik’s maps had an occasional word like, Al-buhera, but most were words like, ‘broad river’, ‘strong walls’, ‘rocks are here’ and the like. Citadels were marked with a tower.

  I watched Sámr run his fingers over the runes and the lines he had drawn a month ago. He jabbed a finger at a river with a citadel symbol. I recognised it. Atticus, when he had looked at the maps after Sámr had copied them, had told me it was Portus Cale. Atticus’ voice had been filled with fear. “Jarl, it is full of Moors and Berbers. They are a fierce people and very cruel. They are not Christian!” Portus Cale had a tower drawn upon it.

  I said nothing. Haaken pointed at a river some fifty miles north. “What about this one? It is closer to home and there is no tower drawn there.”

  Erik Short Toe shook his head, “Sámr is right, Haaken One Eye. That river has a narrow entrance. It can be easily blocked. Besides it is many years since we travelled this far and they may have built a tower there now.”

  Haaken nodded, “Then how will we take a citadel?”

  Sámr smiled, “We do not. We step the mast and sail, at night, up past the fortress. We will raid beyond their defences. There will be halls filled with goods waiting to be traded. The Moors are like us, Haaken, they trade.”

  “How do you know?”

  Sámr was not put out by the aggressive tone of Haaken. He said, patiently, “Because I have spoken, during the watches, with Erik Short Toe who was trained by Josephus. Before we left, I spoke at length to Atticus of Syracuse. I ask and I listen. Perhaps those skills might be something you might acquire.”

  I laughed and put my arm around Haaken, “I have been saying that for years. You are right, Sámr. Although it will be hard for you, Haaken, keep your thoughts to yourself until Sámr has had a chance to explain what we will do or have you forgotten the purpose of this voyage?”

  He grinned, “You are right and that is a rarity! I will listen. Speak on Sámr Ship Killer!”

  “We wait off the coast until dusk and then row up the river. You are right the citadel will be well guarded and they will have horsemen, for the Moors are known for their horses, but we will raid south of the river. The people who are there, the native people, are kept as almost slaves. Atticus told me that. The Moors keep a tight rein on the land. We will only have to fight the Moors for the other people will see us as saviours. We do not take slaves from those people and we just take from the Moors.”

  I looked with new eyes at Sámr. He had thought this out well. “You learned this from Erik?”

  He shook his head, “When I played chess with Atticus, he spoke to me of how the Moors had taken over much of the land which had been ruled by the Romans and the Byzantines. The Moors are passionate about their religion and they try to convert the Christians. The ones they do not convert they either kill or enslave. We often use nature as an ally. Let us try to use these people.”

  Haaken spoke, “But we do not speak their language.”

  He smiled, “Baldr knows some of the words! There were other slaves with him amongst the Franks and they came from this land. It is worth a try. Baldr has skills with languages and the Norns sent him to the clan for a purpose.”

  It was the optimism of youth and I realised that I had lost it many years ago. I was far more pessimistic and cynical these days. Despite that I added a word of caution, “It is one thing to sneak in and quite another to sneak out. The sheepdog and the shepherd may be asleep when we enter the sheepfold but they will be alert when we try to leave.”

  “I know. I have ideas on how to extricate ourselves but first I would look at this
stronghold.” He saw the doubt on our faces, “If I am to learn how to lead then I need to take chances do I not, Dragonheart?”

  “You are right but first we need to find Portus Cale.”

  Erik Short Toe nodded, “The river there is wider than any save the one much further south. The trick will be to work out which river we have found.”

  The next day we saw land birds amongst the ocean birds. It was Stig who earned the silver penny, “Captain, I see land!” His small hand pointed due east. I could not see it but Stig was sitting astride the mast and yard. I looked at the sun. Arne turned the hourglass. We would have one or possibly two turns before we would lose the light. The wind was still from the north but closer to the north east. It was not helping us.

  Erik looked at Sámr, “We should run out the oars.”

  Sámr was torn. Part of him knew that we needed the oars and the other part wanted him to continue to steer. Common sense won out, “Take to the oars! Haaken, give us the beat.”

  “Would you have a song?”

  He shook his head as he headed to his bench, “We do not need it yet and I would not alert the Moors to our presence.”

  Once the oars bit, we began to close with the shore at a faster rate. Before the hourglass was half empty, I saw the line of cliffs. Erik Short Toe frowned, “Arne, up the mast. Let me know if they are high cliffs.”

  We were closing quickly now and I could see that, by some miracle or an amazing piece of good fortune, we had found a river. Was this Portus Cale?

  “They are high cliffs, captain and there looks to be a small settlement. I can see smoke rising in the sky.”

  I turned to Erik who had a self-satisfied look on his face, “You know where we are?”

  “I do. It is an almost deserted part of the coast. The nearest place of any size is Tui and that is some way up the river. We are, however, one hundred miles north of where we wish to be.” He cupped one hand, “Prepare to come about!” As the ship’s boys took their positions he said, “We can, at least, bring in the oars and turn south and east. The wind can aid us once more. We will find somewhere to land. I think we all need the feel of sand and rocks beneath our feet.” We made the turn and Erik shouted, “In oars!”