by Griff Hosker
Duke of Normandy
Book 10 in the
Norman Genesis 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.
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Prologue
I was now the Lord of Rouen. It was not a title I afforded myself. It was forced upon me. My wife, Poppa, liked the title of lady. She had been the daughter of a Frankish Count and such things mattered to her. The men who had been jarls under my grandfather and were now my lords wished me to have the accolade. Partly that was because they were all lords of the places we had conquered. They enjoyed their own titles. It meant more to their wives than that of jarl. We were becoming, in some ways, more Frank than Norse. That was not surprising for most of my men, like me, had married Frank or Breton brides. Our language was changing. It was not Norse and it was not Frank. Like our people it was evolving.
What had not changed was my warrior heart. I was still Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson. I was still Rollo! I was the warrior who had been drowned and reborn. I was the warrior with Long Sword and now, after many attempts, I had fathered a son. William Longsword would follow me. He would have a land which he could rule. Until my brother had tried to murder me I had had no wish to rule. Now I saw that if I ruled then my family and people would be safer. My grandfather had shown me that. His benevolent ways on Raven Wing Island at the Haugr had proved to be too gentle and we had lost all that we had once had. It had taken both blood and death to recover it. I could not allow any to question my rule. I also had a prophecy to fulfil. My grandfather had been told by a witch that his heirs would rule the western world. We had but a toe hold on the land. Before I died I needed to make something my son could hold.
King Charles the Fat ruled the Franks but he was old and there was enough division amongst them for them not to be a threat to us. We had raided Paris and while my men and I had profited, many of the other Vikings who took part in the raid perished for they were too greedy. We took the bribes offered by the Franks and we left. They tried to take more and were slaughtered. The coin we took built strong walls. It paid for good swords and it made us stronger. Count Odo of Paris had resented the bribes and it was rumoured he sought the crown for himself. We would exploit such divisions.
The threat which was on our doorstep was the land of Brittany. There had been a civil war and Alan, son of the Count of Ridoredh now ruled. The Emperor Charles, known as the Bald, of the Holy Roman Empire had been so desperate to find allies to fight us that he had made Alan of Vannes, King of the Bretons. It was a title to keep the Breton away from his borders. It made him look at us. We had taken the Cotentin from him and he wanted it back. Although his homeland was around Vannes in the south the Breton had begun to cast covetous glances at the lands of my lords. It had been a Breton who had suborned my brother and I bore them no love. I would have made war on them but I was dissuaded by my wife. She had been related, through her husband, to Bretons. I listened to her. It was a mistake. It was a mistake which cost me dear. It drove a wedge between us that never truly healed. She had given me a son. That would be enough.
Chapter 1
Rouen
My son, William, had seen more than two summers before I went to war again. I had tried to do as my wife wished and live like a lord. I had tried to live at peace with my neighbours but it had sent out the wrong message to my enemies. They thought I was growing weak. However, the time of peace was good for the land and the mix of Norse and Frank. My people prospered. We traded. We ploughed, farmed and fished. Life should have been good. The first signs of danger came when many of the warriors who had followed Guthrum in the land of the Angles had come to our land. The time of the Danes was drawing to a close. King Alfred of Wessex was in the ascendancy. They thought to raid up the river but I had promised King Charles that I would stop Danes from raiding. My reputation and my friendship with Guthrum prevented violence but it was a warning that when Guthrum died we might have to fight Danes once more.
Then my lords who lived in what the Franks called the Cotentin were raided for slaves by the Bretons. Saxbjǫrn the Silent of Carentan had families taken. The families who were taken lived to the west of his domain. Halfi Axe Tongue was the lord whose land suffered the most losses. They lived far from others and their loss was not discovered for a month. Landbjartr was a hersir who farmed the land ten miles to the east of Carentan. He had been one of Saxbjǫrn ’s hearth weru. When we returned from the raid on Paris he had taken a wife and gone, along with his brothers to live in a secluded valley. It was good farmland and the sea was just a few miles to the west. It was perfect. His two brothers married and they took their families to live there. When a messenger was sent to invite them to a wedding feast in Carentan they found nothing save the heads of the three brothers and farms which had been destroyed. Despite a search Saxbjǫrn could not find who had taken them. That had been half a year since and the lord of Carentan had put it down to a raid by Danes. King Alfred’s rule drove many Danes back to the sea. Landbjartr had lived too close to the sea.
I was summoned late one afternoon when Saxbjǫrn’s drekar, ‘Moon Dragon’ was seen approaching my stronghold. Despite the peace I still had men walking my walls. They were the ones who did not farm. They were not bondi. They were my hired warriors. They had sworn an oath to me and the twenty of them would be the heart of my crew when I sailed to war. Harold Strong Arm had served my father as a warrior and he had once led my oath sworn. He had relinquished the role for one he thought a better leader. Such was the way of good warriors. Æbbi Bonecrusher led them and he came to inform me. After he told me he said, “She does not have a large crew, lord. She rides high in the water.”
“Have the warrior hall prepared. I am guessing they will stay the night.” I found myself looking forward to spending time with the Lord of Carentan. I missed the company of my warriors. A life of comfort did not suit me.
As I hurried down to the gate to greet him my wife stopped me, “We have visitors?”
“Saxbjǫrn the Silent. I have ordered the warrior hall to be prepared.”
She wrinkled her nose. She did not like my lords. “This is not the way a civilised person conducts himself. He should have waited to be invited.”
Before my son had been born my wife and I had got on well. A rift had begun to appear when I forbade her priest Æðelwald of Remisgat to attend the birth of our son. I had drawn a little blood. Now they were closeted together each day. She prayed, apparently, for my soul and her priest helped her. While Sprota watched William, my wife would be on her knees with her priest. My wife had a thousand ways to annoy me. Each day she found a new one.
I smiled, “Saxbjǫrn is like me. He is not civilised. He is a Viking. Have a feast prepared for this night.”
She snorted. It was not attractive. “That is all we need! Drunken Vikings vomiting in the hall!”
I smiled again for I knew it annoyed her. “It is good to see that we are in agreement!”
Since Gefn, my adopted mother, had died, I had used the widow of one of my warriors to run my hall. My wife should have done it but she
had not been taught the skills by her mother and she thought it beneath her. Ágáta hid her smile as my wife stormed off. As Æbbi Bonecrusher often said, ‘she flounces better than any woman I have ever met!’
“Ágáta Silver Hair, see the cooks and ensure that this is a feast fit for warriors. They will want real food and not the delicate little titbits which the priests, my wife invites, seem to enjoy.”
She smiled. She had raised four children. All lived in other parts of the world but she knew how to cook and she knew what filled a man. “Fear not lord, they will not let you down.”
Two of my oathsworn followed me. Harold Strong Arm and Haaken the Bold were my shadows. There had been killers sent to do me harm. One had managed to get into my hall before he was killed by me. After that attempt the hearth weru arranged for two men to watch me at all times. Some of the killers were obvious ones. I had not given them the judgement they wished in my court. Others had asked for a piece of land and I had not acquiesced. There were some, however, that I did not know. The one I had slain outside my sleeping chamber had been one that I did not recognise.
Harold said, as we stepped into the sunlight, “Perhaps this will bring us some action.” I flashed him a look. He shrugged, “Since Paris, lord, I have not used my sword to draw blood. I do not have many more years of war ahead of me. I am a warrior and I crave action.”
“Does not your new wife give you action enough?”
Haaken laughed, “She is too young for this old goat, lord. She tires him out and that is why he wishes to go a-Viking.”
Although Haaken was joking I knew that most of my men wished me to raid, or to go to war. Despite the fact that they had married Franks and had the title of lord none were yet ready to hang up their swords.
The idea of swords put something in my mind and I asked Harold Strong Arm, “Whatever happened to my father’s sword?”
He looked sadly towards the north. My father had been murdered on the Tamese. His body had been brought back and buried but I had been in Norway when that happened. In the time since I had come back I had asked many questions but not that one.
“I was young when it was made but I still remember that it was engraved.”
Harold nodded, “It said, ‘Bagsecg made me. I come from the past and reach to the future. Enemies of the clan, fear me.’” He closed his eyes and clutched at his amulet. “We never saw it after the battle on the drekar. I assumed it had been lost overboard but…”
“But what?”
“When we look back we have perfect vision. I fear your brother might have taken it.”
“We did not find it when I slew him. He did not use my father’s sword.”
“Then it is lost but, in my heart, I know it was not killed. It lies somewhere waiting.”
We had little time to talk for Saxbjǫrn’s drekar had already turned around so that when they left they could do so quickly. We liked to use the tides and we were always prepared. We had met Saxbjǫrn the Silent, Halfi Axe Tongue and Nefgeirr Halfisson in Dyflin. The port which had once been a haven for Vikings had become a dangerous place with little honour amongst those who ran the port. They had followed my banner. All three had settled close to Carentan. Saxbjǫrn the Silent was the lord who ruled them but the three were still as I remembered them. They were close.
I clasped his arm. “It has been too long. How goes the world?”
He gestured towards my hall, “You are lucky here, Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson. You do not live on the edge of the Norse world.”
“Trouble?” He nodded. “Harold, take the jarl’s men to the warrior hall. I will be safe.”
“Aye lord.”
We were alone as we passed beneath my gate house. “The families we lost?”
“Aye.”
“You have discovered their fate?”
“It was Bretons. It has happened again. Some of Halfi’s people were taken and this time they were seen. One of the shepherd boys was making water and he saw the Bretons taking the women and children back to their ship. Now it makes sense. The ones who were taken both the last time and this time all lived within a few miles of the coast. The Bretons are beginning to copy us and I do not like it.”
We had reached my hall and Ágáta had ale and horns waiting for us. She was discreet and she hurried away. We were alone. We would not be disturbed for my wife disliked my jarls. She found them both uncouth and, in her words, malodorous. She had had to explain to me what the word meant.
“You wish help?”
“No, lord. We are Vikings and we fight our own battles. It is just that we intend to raid the land around their Mont St. Michel and as the King of the Franks has given it to the Bretons we thought to ask for your approval.”
I nodded. This showed respect. “You do not need to ask permission for the Bretons, by raiding, have declared war on you.”
“We have three drekar and many men. If we can we hope to take prisoners and exchange them for the families of those who were taken.”
“Good. If you wish me to make war on the Bretons then I am happy to do so. The King of the Franks cannot give away that which he does not control and the Cotentin is ours by force of arms and blood.”
He looked relieved. “When we are done I will return and tell you what we have discovered.”
“You have no need. It has been some time since I took ‘Fafnir’ to sea. We will visit you in two months’ time. I too have men who wish to raid. How long do you stay?”
He smiled, “Just overnight although I daresay that will be enough to annoy the Lady Poppa. She will be sending for boatloads of lavender from Provence.”
I laughed. Everyone, it seemed, knew of Poppa’s views.
The next morning I watched ‘Moon Dragon’ head down the river and I had my drekar hauled from the river. It was good that Saxbjǫrn had come for it had made me realise that I was still a Viking. We might not be raiding the Franks but the Bretons were a different matter. I had not made any promise to them. I saw that weed clung to the hull of my ship. We had shipwrights on the river and they would examine her for me. “Clean the weed and replace every strake and sheet. I want ‘Fafnir’ to fly.”
“Aye lord.” Leif the Ship hesitated, “Who will captain her?”
Olaf Two Teeth had been my captain. Even though he was lord of Djupr I had always felt comfortable with him at my steering board. He was a link to the past and my grandfather. He had suffered an illness. Some said it was a punishment from the gods. I did not. He had woken one morning to find that half his face and his left arm were useless. All else was fine and his mind was as sharp as ever. His son Siggi was a powerful lord and he helped his father. He could rule Djupr but he could not fight in a shield wall and he could not sail my drekar. I believe it was the three sisters who sent his affliction. They had often spun their webs and tied my life to that of another. This severed a thread. I was still tied to Olaf but it was not as tight. I knew, as I answered Leif the Ship, that another thread was being spun even as the words came from my mouth. “You know ships. Whom would you have holding the steering board?”
He tried to evade the question, “I know how to sail a ship and not to fight with one.”
I laughed, “Do not worry, Leif, I know how to fight but I need someone who can put my ship where it will do the most good; next to a foe. Do not be coy with me. I can see in your eyes that you have a name. Spit it out so that I may hear it.” My wife often told me that when I spoke in what I considered a reasonable way it sounded threatening and intimidating. She urged me to speak quietly as her priest did. It was nonsense of course. My men knew that my loud voice was a gift from the gods and came with the huge body I had been given.
Leif the Ship nodded, “If I was to speak truly then I would say my son, Erik Leifsson. He sails a knarr and makes the swiftest of voyages.” He shrugged. “You asked me, lord. Ask others if you wish. I have a half share in my son’s boat and he makes me rich. If he serves you I may be poorer.”
I snorted, “Unlikely! My
ships come back laden with treasure. Is he in port?”
“No, lord he has sailed to the Haugr to take goods to Finnbjǫrn.”
“Then when he returns ask him to speak with me.”
As we headed back inside the city I asked Snorri Snorrison if he knew Leif’s son. “I have heard that, despite his age, he makes swift voyages and he has skill. He has no experience in a drekar, lord.”
I nodded. I knew what he meant. A knarr did not use oars. A drekar captain had to know when to use oars and how long to make the crew row. I decided to wait until I had met the young man before I committed. “Have Harold Strong Arm warn my men that I will need them a month from now.”
He cocked his head to one side, “I thought you told Saxbjǫrn that it would be two months, lord?”
Despite my loud voice those whom I trusted knew that they could question me. I smiled, “It has been two years since we went to war. I know not about the crew but I feel rusty. Besides from what Æbbi Bonecrusher said my men are eager to leave Rouen. We will raid!”
He laughed, “They are that lord. A woman in your bed gives you a comfort but only for a short time. Then you need to have the freedom of the seas. You need to hear dead comrades screeching from above. A man needs his blood to rush through his veins as he raises his sword. It is what makes him a man. I was curious only.”
My wife’s reaction was the opposite. I do not think that she minded the fact that I would be away. In fact, I believe that she relished it. It was my intent she did not like. “The Bretons? You know that I am related to Alan of Vannes?”
I shrugged. “You are now my wife. As I recall there was little rush to pay your ransom when I took you. And, if memory serves, you were happy to become my bride!”
Her mask slipped a little as she snapped, “Perhaps I thought I could turn this sow’s ear into a silk purse. I might have had the idea that if I made you Christian then you would become a Frank.”