Viking Wrath

Published by Sword Books Ltd 2015

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.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

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Bjorn Bagsecgson was a fine blacksmith. His father had made my sword which had been touched by the gods. Ragnar's Spirit was the finest sword in the lands ruled by the Norse. It had now suffered another trial; a trial of blood and fire. When I had brought it back from our old home on Mann it had looked as though it could never be used again. The blade and the tang were all that remained of it. Redbeard and Torgil had tried to take it from me and they had failed. The sword chose its owner and it had chosen me. However their attempt at theft had resulted in a change in my sword. It now had a blood red dragon etched onto one side of the sword. A combination of the fire and Torgil's blood had been used by the gods to add something to an already magical weapon. Bjorn had left it there for it marked my sword as part of me. I was the Dragon Heart and now my sword had the heart of a dragon. However he made me a much better handle than the one which had burned off and fitted a blue stone in a silver setting for the pommel. The stone was a special one we had found in the land of Cymru. There was a connection to my family although we did not, as yet, know what that connection was. When all else was finished he carefully sharpened it. He held it up to catch the light and he shook his head in amazement.

"My father made a fine sword; but the Gods made it a better one and now fire and blood have made it invincible. I feel privileged just to sharpen it." As he reverently wiped away the fine traces of metal and gently polished it he added, "The smiths of old oft times used their own blood to temper a blade. This one has now been tempered by Odin and by the blood of your enemies. This sword will never let you down, Jarl Dragon Heart."

"I know, Bjorn. I just hope that I do not let it down."

He laughed, "That can never happen. You are the bond which holds our people together."

As I rode back to my hall along the Water of Cyninges-tūn I wondered at his words. I did not want to be the only thing which protected my people. I was human, I could be killed. There would come a time when I would meet a warrior with a better sword or a stronger arm. If I fell then what would become of my people? I thought of all those who depended upon me, my daughter, my son, his wife, my Ulfheonar not to mention the farmers and sailors. It was an awesome responsibility and I had come closer to death in the last few weeks than in all the years before. Many men wanted my sword and it had drawn enemies like a moth to a flame. Although we had defeated all who tried to take it the stories were still told of the power of this weapon. Now that it had been through fire and blood it would be even more attractive to those who saw the sword as a way to get more power.

Was this a sign that my time was coming to an end? Were the Gods and the spirits who watched over me telling me that it was time to look for the next leader of my people? Prince Butar had chosen me before he died. I should do the same. I decided to put my affairs in order. I would help my son to become a better leader than I was. He would be the Jarl I would choose. Others had better qualifications: Cnut and Haaken had proved themselves to be good leaders in the past and Sigtrygg Thrandson was the best warrior but Wolf Killer, my son, had my blood and that of his mother coursing through his veins. His sister was a volva and one day my son would learn how to speak with the spirits. Just as I had taken many years to gain the skill of speaking with those who had died before, so my son would acquire those skills. Now that the danger from my enemies had abated I would use the time to prepare my son.

Our world soon settled into its normal routine as summer faded and the leaves began to turn brown. Kara, my daughter, was already beginning to prepare the feast that would come when the trees were bare and winter approached. This year she also had my son's wife, Elfrida, to care for. She would soon be delivered of a child and my daughter was determined that the birth should be an easy one. My daughter and my son were the two halves of our world; one was the heart and one was the mind. My daughter, like her mother, was a volva and communicated with the dead and the spirit world. My son was, like me, a warrior and I knew that this winter would be spent in teaching him to become a better leader. I could do no more with Kara. She had taken over from her mother and, although she was young, she acted as a woman grown. She lived in a world of women all of whom happily obeyed her instructions. They had their own hall away from the rest of the settlement on the other side of the Water.

I decided to begin my son's training by going hunting with him and Aiden. Aiden was my Galdramenn. He could heal and he had the power to speak with the spirits. It was a gift given by the gods and I was grateful they had given it to Aiden. He had been a slave I had taken and then freed when Hibernians had raided us many years earlier. He was as close to my son as a brother. His power seemed to have grown since he had been taken as hostage by Torgil the Cunning. He had barely escaped with his life but the brush with death had hardened him. He was now tempered in fire in blood like my sword, Ragnar's Spirit. He seemed to have the ability to read minds. That would be a useful skill. I needed all the help I could get with my son. I had no secrets from Aiden and, I hoped, nor did Wolf Killer.

We took bows and boar spears. I did not think we would find boars but we had been surprised by them before now. We left to head towards the Rye Dale where we knew we would find deer. As we climbed the higher ground beyond the Tarns I noticed that there were flecks of snow on the top of Úlfarrberg. I frowned. We did not need another wolf winter and the snow had come early. I pulled my wolf cloak a little tighter around my shoulders. My son, Wolf Killer, led and Aiden brought up the rear. Wolf Killer and his hound had the best noses and would warn us of danger. The older I became the less I seemed in tune with the land. My mind, however, had become sharper and I was able to think a little more like Kara and Aiden. Perhaps this was wisdom. Certainly the three men I had admired the most, Ragnar, his son Butar and Old Olaf had all been wise men whose minds had retained sharpness right until the end.

As we began to ascend the Lough Rigg we took the opportunity to rest before the crest. We turned and looked south to Windar's Mere. The hillsides were dotted with sheep and cattle. Our herds and flocks had grown. "The land is becoming more prosperous, Jarl Dragon Heart." Aiden pointed at the large numbers of animals. A few years ago we would have been lucky to see four or five.

"That is tempting the Norns too much, Aiden. Each time we feel safe then they turn our world upside down. I would just like to spend some time here in my land without being attacked and threatened by others. Let us just say that we are not as badly off as we once were and that we are grateful to the Gods for their bounty." I said it loudly so that the Sisters would hear.

Aiden shook his head in disagreement, "It would be foolish to think that others would not envy what we have. It is in some men's nature to let others work hard and then take the fruits of their labours."

Wolf Killer picked up a piece of long grass and began to chew it. "We have taken from others in the past, Aiden. Are we those kinds of men?"

Aiden smiled at me as he answered my son, "You are right, Wolf Killer. We were like that and we used to take more than we produced but we now trade more than we take. Even when we had no iron we traded for it."

A silence descended as Wolf Killer took in the words of our Galdramenn. I smiled at the two of them, "Tell me my son, when you rule this land what will you do? Will you do it as I did or would you like it to be different?"

He looked surprised, "That will be many years off, father. You are both hale and hearty. You are not ready to become an old man as Olaf was."

"I discovered when I fought Torgil the Cunning that sometimes just being hale and hearty is not enough. I could fall in battle; I could have the coughing sickness which took your mother. There are many ways for a man to die. So, my son, what would you do if you ruled?"

"I would keep a tight iron fist around my land. I would make our enemies fear to come here."

I nodded my agreement. I liked his answer. "And you would still trade?"

"I believe that it is a good thing. We grow more prosperous and powerful when we trade. Others come to depend upon us and they will not attack us if they need us."

Aiden nodded to me. My son was learning and yet he knew it not. I clapped them both on the back, "You have helped an old man rest a while and I thank you. Let us hunt!"

"You are not old, father, and you have a mind like a steel trap but I am learning to read you like one of Aiden's books. Each time you take me hunting there is another purpose. The last time you told me to get a wife and I found Elfrida."

Aiden coughed, "Actually, Wolf Killer, you stole Elfrida from her husband."

Wolf Killer coloured then he smiled, "True but he was an animal and did not deserve her."

As we crested the ridge I warned him, "Never forget Egbert for he will not forget you. He may have taken another wife but you damaged his reputation and his honour. Until he is dead we need to be watchful."

"And I will father, believe me. No harm shall come to our land because of me." He smiled. "And this time you ask me to prepare to become a better leader in case you fall in battle. I have understood."

It was late afternoon when we descended from the Rigg with the two deer we had killed. Both were old males and we had not diminished the herds. Their strength was fading and any offspring would have been weak. We had made it easier for the younger males to produce finer animals for us to hunt. It was the way the Mother intended it to be. We took more care than many hunters for we managed our land.

As the earth warmed and our ships traded we began to see more visitors. Our trading meant that some of our neighbours no longer viewed us as a threat but as an ally. The men of Dyfed and Strathclyde now brought their ships to Úlfarrston where Pasgen and his people made them welcome. One day, however, we had visitors we did not know. A party of armed men escorted a couple of women up the road by the Water. I spied them as I tended my wife's grave. They walked which showed they had arrived by ship. The shields of the warriors were carried across their backs and that suggested that they came in peace but we watched them carefully anyway. Although there were just six of them their shields marked them as warriors while their size as men who would be useful in a fight. I spied them from the eastern side of the Water. Since the majority of my people had moved to the western side of the Water there was just my hall and my guards on the eastern side. It was all part of my plan to shift power to my son. One disadvantage was that visitors rarely visited me first. I sighed. It had been my choice. I had wanted the solitude and now I had it. It did mean, however that Kara and Elfrida were close. My son, too, seemed to enjoy the company of his sister.

I sought out Osbert who watched over me. He had been a slave but he had been so loyal to me that I had freed him. He looked after Aiden and me; my guards watched out for themselves. "Osbert, saddle me a horse. I will visit."

"Aye Jarl Dragon Heart." I donned clean clothes which looked better than the workaday kyrtle I normally wore. I smiled; that was Erika at work still. My wife always made a fuss if I did not dress appropriately for visitors. She had been brought up well; I had grown up a slave. Aiden and Rolf, the leader of my guards joined me.

"Should I come with you, Jarl?"

"That is your choice, Aiden, but I go to greet the visitors yonder."

He peered across the Water to see the visitors better and then frowned. "I will do so."

I sat on my small horse while he prepared to accompany me. Rolf had been one of my oathsworn until he had been wounded and he looked up at me. "Does this mean trouble do you think, Jarl?"

"I doubt it. There are but six of them and they have two women in their company. In my experience warriors never take women to war with them." As the gates were opened I noticed that many leaves had fallen into our ditch. "Still it would do no harm to have my men clear the ditches."

Rolf smiled, he hated idle hands. "I will set the men to work now, Jarl."

As we rode around the northern edge of the Water I asked Aiden about his reaction to the visitors. "Are you afraid of these newcomers? What do the spirits tell you?"

"They did not speak and I am not worried but I sensed… I am not certain what I sensed; perhaps when I have spoken with Kara then my mind might be more settled. It was just that I felt danger. When I looked across the Water Old Olaf seemed to frown and he lives now in the spirit world. He sees into men's hearts and minds."

I nodded. It was never wise to ignore the Old Man of Cyninges-tūn. I would watch these guests carefully but Aiden was correct, if there was danger then my daughter would know of it.

My western halls had spread beyond our defensive walls. Indeed the walls were only there as a last refuge. They surrounded my first warrior hall by the Water and the gates were always open. People came and went too often to keep them shut. My son and my daughter both had their own halls and they were on higher ground. My daughter was a little way away from the main area of occupation. Her women enjoyed the quiet of the side of the Old Man. In addition the Water sometimes flooded the huts in the lower parts of the valley and both of my children prepared well for nature's whims. I saw that there was a huddle of people outside my daughter's hall. It was the first place a visitor found when they came from the south.

We called it the hall of women for Kara used it as a place of healing, magic and the production of cheese. The followers of the White Christ had similar establishments; they called them nunneries. The difference was that Kara's was part of the people. The women were not confined within their hall and they worked with those who needed their help.

Aiden and I were greeted by my people as we rode through the neatly laid out huts. Bjorn, my smith, waved at me from the side of the Water where he toiled with his men at his smithy. Others called greetings. Some were old warriors who had fought alongside me and now worked, instead, in Cyninges-tūn. As we approached our arrivals the first thing I noticed was that one of the women was stunningly beautiful. My wife, Erika, had been such a beauty. It was more than her looks, however, it was the clothes she wore and her demeanour. She wore not the rough clothes of an ordinary woman but fine clothes such as those we had seen when we had visited Miklagård. She was older than both of my children but not as old as I was. I found it hard to judge the ages of women accurately. She gazed at me as I approached and I turned my head for I found her stare to be uncomfortable. I shifted my attention to the warriors. They wore armour but it was unlike our mail. It appeared to consist of overlapping scales; they looked almost like a fish. Their helmets had cheek guards and a metal strip to protect their noses. Their shields were round and well made. Each bore a yellow star in the centre. These were good warriors. These were the kind of men who would defend a standard to their dying breath.

We halted and two of my son's servants took our horses from us. Arturus and Kara came towards us. It was my daughter who spoke. "We have visitors, Jarl Dragon Heart. They are from On Corn Walum."

I glanced at my son who shrugged. We had fought a sea battle with pirates from On Corn Walum. They had been fighting for the King of Mercia. I would not judge them for that. Sometimes we fought for allies and sometimes for gold.

"You are welcome to my land. What brings you on such a perilous journey?"

Although I spoke to the warrior who had a golden strip upon his helmet it was the woman who answered. She had an accent but she spoke our language well. "It was not so perilous. The people we met were kind to us and we spent some time at the holy mountain of Wyddfa and on Caer Cybi."

It made sense now. The people of On Corn Walum were related to the Welsh and they shared a common religion. "Do the people of your land not follow the White Christ as the Saxons do?"

Her face darkened briefly and then she smiled. "We follow the old ways still. I am sorry, I have not introduced myself. I am Angharad, the sister of Mark of Tintagel. This is Demelza my companion." I nodded and looked pointedly at the warriors. "These are my bodyguards. This is Cynan. I am afraid none of them speak your language." She spoke in her own tongue and the six body guards gave a slight bow. There was neither smile nor warmth on their faces.

Kara became the hostess, "Shall we retire to my brother's hall? Elfrida has made it more homely than mine. She turned to Aiden. He knew the language of the Cymri. "Aiden, would you take these to the warrior hall. Bjorn the Scout  can entertain them."

Angharad spoke to Cynan and they followed Aiden. She waved a hand at the mountains and the Water. "You have a fine land here. I can see why you have prospered. The waters and meres we have passed show that the mother must protect this country."

I nodded to the Old Man. "And the spirits of the dead watch over us too."