Viking Love Beyond Time (Time Travel Romance) (41 page)

             
“What?  Now?  Are you serious?”

             
Her smiled turned into am impish grin.  “I knew you’d get cold feet once you’d had your wicked way with me!  Race you to the dunes!” With that she slapped her mare’s rump and headed up the beach.

             
Her small mare was no match for Edric’s war horse, he overtook her as they floundered into the first soft grassy mounds which edged the beach, just as she had intended him to.  He pulled his horse to a stop and almost vaulted from the saddle then, hands on hips, he faced her.  “Alodie, get down” he said brusquely.

             
She felt a giggle coming on.   “Why, milord - I thought we were out for a ride - what do you want me to do down there that I cannot do on horseback?”

Edric growled deep in his throat and, putting his hands under her arms he pulled her, half protesting, from the mare which snorted and trotted off to a safe distance, then carried her, kicking and laughing, to the deep marram grass between the dunes, there he laid her gently down “Edric, what are you going to do?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes shining.

             
He took a lock of her hair in his fingers and rubbed it “Show you how serious I am my love, and prove to you that when in your presence, nothing of me is cold, not even my feet!  I think it’s also a good opportunity to teach you not to run your fingers up a man’s thigh unless you intend to do something to deal with the stiffness which always follows such an action”

             
Alodie half heartedly pushed him away.  “Edric, we shouldn’t, we could start a baby”

             
He laughed wickedly.  “You are marrying me on Twelfth Night, so even if we do t’will make no difference whatsoever -  Jesu, how tight have you fastened this knot?”  

             
It was a grey and windy December day.  The
drakkar
cut through the choppy waters of the
Bristol Channel
, a huge carved dragon gracing the prow and a pennant streaming from the masthead.  The square sail bellied in the wind, almost merging the red, blue and green stripes in the strong gusts.  Eighteen oars a side dipped back and forth in the foaming waves and bright shields hung over the gunwale.

             
A lone steersman sat at the back of the ship working the huge tiller, every now and again glancing at the figure sitting moodily on an upturned box next to him.  At length he spoke “The men can’t keep this rate up for much longer, my lord”

             
The figure glanced up and regarded the sweating rowers then nodded “another fifteen minutes lads and we’ll break our fast” he shouted.  There were a few groans and a curse or two but the crew laid to with a will for this was
the Freyja
, and Herger the Raven, the scourge of the seas, was back in his own again.

             
Herger got to his feet and walked over to the side of the ship.  Anyone who did not know how ill he had been a few months earlier would have been loath to believe it.  Since his return to consciousness he had run ten miles every day and lifted gradually increasing weights beginning with a block of wood and ending with a blacksmith’s anvil which he had managed to heft over his head for five seconds.  He was now as strong, if not stronger, than he had been before his accident and apart from the occasional headache had recovered completely.

             
“My lord” hissed the steersman “the river’s mouth is up ahead” Herger raised his eyes and followed the steersman’s pointing finger.  The wide channel narrowed as it turned north into the River Severn, the foaming currents and cross currents almost falling over one another as they created a mini maelstrom into which leaves and smaller branches were sucked.

             
Herger put up his hand.  “Pull over to the left bank and make fast.  We will rest for one hour” groans of relief greeted this statement.  They had been rowing fourteen hours a day since they had left Seinshaven -  never had the journey to the
Severn
’s mouth been accomplished so quickly.

             
After making fast on the Welsh side of the river the men reached into their bags for their supplies and soon the ship was silent as the sixty hungry warriors wolfed down their bread and meat.

             
Herger walked slowly over to the aft of the ship, lifting the flap of the hide tent which comprised his quarters, and ducked inside.  Those of Bjarnie, the steersman, were next to him whilst those next in rank occupied space in the fore-part of the vessel.  There, round the sides, were the chests in which were kept the men’s weapons and armour.  The plunder, when the ship was used for raiding, was stowed in the fore-part and under the planks beneath the oarsmen’s feet.

             
Space was cramped and each member of the crew made his space as best he could in the few feet of room allotted to him - his own rowing space.  There were no benches, the men sat on the boxes in which they stowed their loot and they laid themselves down to sleep on the deck in a fur sleeping bag.   Rowing was done by all, with everyone, including the commander, taking their turn.

             
Small wonder that the Christians feared the Vikings.  The  tough life they lived on the ships, together with their far superior diet, gave them great physical superiority over the soft living Saxons.  Their muscles were hardened by rowing, baling and carrying their longship on portages, also men who had faced the furies of the
North Sea
together could be trusted when fighting to act in perfect unison.

             
Opening his sea chest Herger took out a loaf of bread and a slab of salt beef and began to eat thoughtfully, thinking back over the events of the past few weeks.  He should not really be here, the men did not like sailing in winter.  His original intention had been to regain his strength totally then set out in spring to find Alodie -  he knew he would never be able to get a crew together to brave the
North Sea
in the depths of winter just to retrieve a lost wench.  However, Odin be praised, just a month earlier he had had the message from Guthrum.

             
The messenger, who had come running into the village in the middle of a snowstorm, had informed Herger that he and his men were needed urgently in
Gloucester
where Guthrum was wintering.  The man had no specific details just that Herger’s presence was required as never before.

             
Herger was lost in thought but looked up when he heard Bjarnie cough outside the shelter then stick his head through the canvas opening.  “Herger” he said “I thought you’d like to know,
Gloucester
is no long way up the river, we should strike it within three hours”

             
Herger swallowed the last of his meal then standing he brushed the stray crumbs from his leather
britches
. “I only intend to stay a very short time in
Gloucester
, Bjarnie.  After my council of war with Guthrum I am sailing to Bredond”

             
Bjarnie nodded.  “The wench is like a fever with you Herger.  You will have no peace until you possess her - but surely she will be wed to Luke Edmundson by now”

             
Herger shrugged.  “She is my wife, Bjarnie, if some shaven headed priest has spoken words over her and that
nithing
it matters not, she is mine” his huge hand clenched into a hamlike fist and he turned to his friend with fury in his eyes “yon bastard will have beaten her Bjarnie, I feel it in my bones, and if he has I will break him like a twig”

             
“Poor Luke” laughed Bjarnie “shall I get the ship underway?”

             
Herger nodded.  “Aye, the sooner we get to
Gloucester
the sooner we can  sail the
Freyja
to Bredond and my bride”

***************************

             
Guthrum’s headquarters were in a small hall in the centre of the town of
Gloucester
.  He was almost pathetically relieved to see Herger, rushing over to meet him and clasping his arm as he entered the room.  Herger thought he looked older, a lot older.  “Herger, I never thought to see you alive again, sit down, have some mead” he said, almost babbling, ushering him into a large chair and thrusting a goblet into his hand.  He had taken only a couple of sips, however, when the door behind them opened and Amund walked in, his face lighting up with joy on seeing Herger who got to his feet and walked across the room to meet him.  Throwing open his arms, Amund hugged the younger man to his chest then held him at arm’s length. 

             
“By Odin, lad, it does me good to see you in health” his eyes swept him from head to toe “where have you been in your straw death Herger? 
Valhalla
?  Thor - you’re bigger than ever!”

             
Herger laughed and patted the old warrior’s shoulder “Amund, its good to see you too but tell me, what is the urgency that dragged me to sea in the depths of winter?”

             
Guthrum got up from his chair, rubbing his temples, then turned suddenly.  “As you know, Herger, when the army split three years ago at Repton the plan was that Halfdan would make the north parts a Danish kingdom, thus protecting us from attack in that quarter, whilst we undertook to take Wessex” Herger nodded.  Guthrum went on “I moved the army to
Cambridge
and sent for fresh men from
Norway
and
Denmark
to swell the army to attack overland whilst you undertook the attack by sea on
Wareham
and Bredond but our plan has always been to put this island under Norse rule.  When I took the army to
Exeter
last year I intended to form an alliance with the wild Celts of Cornwall who hate the Saxons even more than we do but my plan was foiled, partly because of the loss of the fleet off Swanage.”
  

Herger walked to the table, took an apple and bit into it.  “I was in my death sleep during all this Guthrum.  I do not know about
Denmark
but I can assure you that in
Norway
at least the boat building has been going on for the best part of a year and the loss of the ships has almost been made up”

             
Guthrum raised his hand.  “I am glad to hear it Raven, glad to hear it but I have been in touch with Ubbe”

             
Herger frowned “Ubbe?  Halfdan’s brother?”

             
Guthrum nodded.  “Yes, he is also gathering a fleet.  You know of course that
Wessex
is the only strong Saxon kingdom left on this island” he opened and closed his hand in a clasping motion “and once we have Alfred by his puny balls it will fall like a ripe apple into our hands.  His spending Christmas at Chippenham is a gift from Odin.”  He picked up his goblet and took a swallow of mead “Also” he continued “I have it on good authority that my youngest son, Swein, who is a hostage, will be there, the kind hearted fools could not bear to let him miss the frivolities, so I should be able to take him back unharmed, but that is a side issue, Ubbe informs me that the Welsh Celts are also sick unto death of the West Saxons and wish to help.  He intends to lead a ship army to fall on
Devon
in the spring.”

             
Herger guffawed and threw his apple core into the fire.  “Ubbe lead a ship army?  Ubbe could not navigate a toy trading
knarr
around his own bath tub - have you brought me here to insult me?”

             
Guthrum shook his shaggy blond head “No Raven, I need your men to fight here and help me overrun
Wessex
once we have invested Chippenham, which we intend to do on the Saxon feast of Twelfth Night, three days from now.  They are the best fighters we have and they follow you to a man.  Ubbe’s invasion is, at best, a mopping up operation.  Let Ubbe lead his Welsh Celts to invest the south of the country, you help me to take Chippenham and the fyrd”

             
The tall Viking took a sip of mead and swished it around his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing it.  “You will have no trouble with the fyrd Guthrum.  Before we came, the thegns were used to short campaigns, with plenty of spoil, against the Welsh or perhaps the Mercians.  Up to this winter they have been away from their farms and families for the best part of two years with nothing to show for it.

             
Attacking at the Christians’ main feast of the year is, I believe, a good idea.  Most of the nobles and thegns will be at home, getting drunk and bedding their women”

             
Guthrum brought his fist down on the table with a resounding thud.  “You’ll do it then Herger?  You’ll help us?”

             
Herger walked over to the window and looked out over the rich dark loamy fields to where the forest began.  It was a mild and sunny winter’s day and the white fluffy clouds were scudding over an almost impossibly blue sky.

             
The birds were taking advantage of the weather to gather what meagre gleanings there were to be had in the way of food and somewhere in the distance a sheep bleated.  Nearby was the sound of someone chopping wood - pine, the tangy smell of it filled his nostrils.

             
By the beard of Loki it was a rich and beautiful country.  He turned back to where Guthrum waited eagerly for his answer and placing his goblet on the table he looked him in the eyes. “Yes, Guthrum, I will help you but it will cost you a third of the spoil”

             
Guthrum’s face cracked into a broad smile and Herger cursed inwardly - he should have asked for half.  He grasped Herger’s forearm but Herger shook free and held up his hand “Not so fast Guthrum, first I have to take the
Freyja
out for a few days.  The rest of my warriors and ships should be here by tomorrow or the day after”

             
Guthrum sighed.  “Let me guess Herger, to Bredond would it be?”

             
Herger nodded, “I leave straight away.  I will not be back here before you set off to Chippenham, however I will meet you there, never doubt it”

********************

             
Although cold with a hint of ice in the air the sun had managed to struggle high enough into the sky to warm the land and Anstice, the thatcher’s daughter, now nurse to the young lord and his sister, had decided to take the opportunity of the good weather to rise early and wash some linen, spreading it to dry on the hedge surrounding the hall.

             
She was just placing the last item, a small shirt of Tom’s, and singing softly to herself when she heard a movement behind her and felt two hands cover her eyes.  She began to laugh.  “Edwy, is that you?”  No answer, she put her own hands up and felt the hands covering her eyes, they were very large and not at all familiar.  She began to wriggle and heard the sound of male laughter.  “Edwy if it
is
you I’ll......”