by Griff Hosker
I saw that his leg was bleeding. It was not mortal. It would possibly slow him up but that was all. Behind and around me I was aware of cries as Saxons died. We had taken their citadel but if I was inattentive then I would die. The captain rushed at me. This time he held his shield close to his body and his sword behind him. He cursed me in Saxon, “Spawn of a Viking, I will gut you and watch you bleed to death.” He swung his sword sideways at me. Convention dictated that I should block with my dagger but I did not. I brought my sword around to block the blow. It meant turning my body and crossing my blade across my chest. I held his sword there. Younger than me, he was strong. His body was as wide as it was tall. I also noticed that his face was hairless. He pushed his shield at me and our blades were locked.
He began to push me back using his powerful legs. He grinned for he thought he was going to win, “I am Sigeberht of Burntwood, I am the son of Ronan the Ring and you will die, Viking.”
He was powerful. I was being forced back. I knew that my men could and would come and help me but there was no honour in that. He had forgotten my dagger. I swung Wolf’s Blood in an arc around his right and plunged it so deep into his arm that it penetrated his side. He roared and brought his head back to butt me. I saw it coming and was moving my own head back but, even so, he caught me a glancing blow. It was my turn to fall backwards. I saw stars but I remained conscious. I was aware of his huge shadow lumbering towards me. The wound in his leg had begun to take effect. If I tried to stand then I would be slain. I could roll left or I could roll right. It was a gamble for he could guess correctly. Clutching my two blades tightly and asking the Allfather for help I rolled to my left. His sword struck the ground where I had been laid. The man had quick reactions and he began to swing his sword again. I scrambled to my feet and managed to block his sword with Ragnar’s Spirit. I reached up with my left hand and rammed Wolf’s Blood through the eye hole of his helmet. It ripped into his brain and his body slumped at my feet.
Cnut Cnutson ran to me. “Jarl Dragonheart! Where is your wound?”
I realised that my head was still covered in Sigeberht of Burntwood’s blood. I smiled. “It is the blood of my enemy. He almost sent me to the Otherworld. The gates?”
“They are closed and secured. Raibeart lost Pasgen and two of his men have wounds. Those Frisians saved the day. They fell upon the backs of the other Saxons.”
Wyrd . Slaves had come to our aid.
I sheathed my sword and my dagger. Cupping my hands, I shouted, “Man the gates! Leave the dead where they lie and keep a watch for Ragnar!” Turning to Cnut I said, “And do not forget the banner. Wait for my command.”
He grinned. We had brought my banner without its staff. It was wrapped around Cnut’s body. It would be the signal to Ragnar that we had succeeded. He took it out and held it high. “When I was wounded I thought that days like these were gone. It is good to be a warrior but even better to be an Ulfheonar!”
I was tempted to explore the praetorium but I decided that would be better left for a safer time. What I did do was to check the building to make sure that there were no others left there. It was good that I did. When I entered the inner sanctum; the place the commander had used in Roman times, I heard whimpering. Drawing my dagger, I reached over and pulled out a tiny mouse of a man, a cleric. I hauled him over the table and he pleaded, in Saxon, “Spare me lord! Spare me!”
“What is your name?”
“I am Atticus. I am the slave of Eorledman Aethelbald. Do not harm me.”
I felt his body shaking in my hands. “That depends upon your cooperation. You are not Saxon!”
He shook his head, “No, lord, I am Greek. I was bought in Dorestad. Before that I had been a slave in Olissipo.” He babbled trying to get his story out before I killed him. “And before that I was a free man living in Sicily until the Moors took me.”
His story was familiar. “Then stay by my side and you may win your freedom, Atticus of Sicily.”
As we left he said, “It is Atticus of Syracuse, lord.” I glared at him and he said, hurriedly, “But you can call me whatever you wish.” As we stepped into the light I saw that he was older than I had thought. He looked to have seen forty summers. He was so slight and thin that I had taken him for a youth. The gods had sent him for a purpose. It would be foolish to throw away their gift.
We were the only ones alive in the centre of Lundenburh. Around us lay the dead. Atticus saw the bloody body of Sigeberht. His bleeding wounds as we fought meant that he was surrounded by a sea of blood. Atticus said, “You killed him lord?”
“Aye.”
“But how? Did you use Viking magic for he was Eorledman Aethelbald’s champion?”
I laughed at the slave’s honesty, “And I am an old man, is that it?”
He cowered, “I am sorry, lord. I received many beatings for my honesty. Forgive my foolish tongue. I will hold it now!” He shook his head.
Despite myself I found myself smiling. I liked this little Greek. In some ways, he reminded me of Josephus and I remembered what good fortune he had brought.
I had a sudden thought. I went back to the body. “Atticus, find me a spear.”
Eager to please he said, “Yes lord!”
I went to the body of the dead Saxon and removed his helmet. He was completely hairless. There was a hole where one eye had been. Taking his sword from his dead fingers I swung it two handed and took off his head. I looked up and saw Atticus with the spear. It had never occurred to me that he might use it. He stared at the headless corpse. I held out my hand, “The spear!” He gave it to me. I had planned on carrying it to the gate by the hair. That was impossible. Holding the spear head end I rammed the shaft up into the skull and hoisted it over my shoulder. “Come.”
Hurrying next to me so that he would not have to look at the gory trophy Atticus kept his eyes ahead. We went to the west gate. That faced the city. I knew that the gates remained open during daylight hours and the slamming shut meant danger. As I reached the top I saw a crowd of burghers approaching. As our mail looked like that of the guards and Raibeart’s men were still wearing Saxon garb they were not yet afraid. Soon they would be. I laid the skull on the fighting platform and stood next to Haaken One Eye.
Haaken looked from the skull to the slave and then back to me. “The gods sent you to me, Jarl Dragonheart so that I may have interesting stories to tell. We are both old men and yet you still continue to surprise me.”
“Blame the gods. This is Atticus, he is Greek. We keep him alive.”
To Atticus’ horror, for he had not understood a word, Haaken put an arm around him and grinned at him. With his one eye and missing teeth he was not a comforting sight. He said, “I shall be like his shadow!”
“Put him down before you scare him to death or kill him with your breath.”
Olaf and Aðils strode down the wall to us. Olaf waved his axe, “Every gate is manned. Those Frisians wish to serve us. I told them they could.”
“Of course. It is what I promised them.”
“And the ships?”
“They burned themselves out and sank. They are in the middle of the river further west.”
Looking towards our Saxon ships I saw the blackened stumps of the masts of two of the ships which had burned out. We could see them now but, over time, the masts would disappear and the hulks, beneath the water, would be a trap which would rip the keel from an unsuspecting ship. I pointed to the west. The mob were now a hundred paces from us. They stopped and a fat man with jewelled rings on his fingers stepped forward.
I said, “Who is that Atticus?”
“He is Aegberht and he is the head man of the city. He is rich and that is why he is the head man. He owns many slaves. He was the one who bought me and then sold me to the Eorledman.” He shuddered. “He makes Sigeberht seem almost normal!” He glanced down at the one-eyed skull.
Aegberht shouted, “Where is Sigeberht and why are the gates closed?”
I said, without turning my hea
d, “Haaken, the skull; show it to them!” The skull was raised. Haaken rammed the spear head into the wood of the fighting platform. The one-eyed skull stared out above the parapet. The crowd recoiled as though I had struck them. I shouted, “As you can see the burh has new owners. Cnut!”
Suddenly my banner was hoisted and people at the rear, recognising the wolf and knowing what it meant, ran. Aegberht was made of sterner stuff. He raised his fist and shook it at me, “Lord Aethelbald will return and drive you hence! It will be your skulls which adorn the walls!”
I shouted, “You have one chance to surrender and avoid death, little fat man. You speak for these people. Speak now and you will be safe.”
He laughed, “Why should I fear you? You and your men number less than twenty! We could take the walls now!”
I said, “Aðils, his right foot!”
In one move Aðils had lifted his bow and released an arrow. They were but a hundred paces from us. I could have asked him to hit a toe and he would have done it. The arrow was so powerful that it pinned his foot to the floor. The effect on the mob was instantaneous. They fled leaving two servants to see to their screaming master; he sounded like a mortally wounded pig. They had to break the shaft and then pull his foot from the tip. Blood gushed from the wound and they had to bind it before they could move him. If there was a healer nearby then they might save the foot but the slave trader would be maimed and lamed for life.
“Olaf take charge here. Haaken come with Atticus and me. Let us see what delights are to be found in Sigeberht’s quarters.” Cupping my hands, I shouted, “Throw the dead Saxons into the ditch. I know not how long my grandson will be.” The corpses would soon smell and attract vermin. As we went down the steps I asked Atticus, “You said he was a champion?”
“Yes master. He fought for the Eorledman in bouts. The Eorledman became rich for the prize was often land. He liked land and saw an opportunity to make himself King of Essex.”
That was useful information. Eorledman Aethelbald was ambitious. I nodded, “Then the champion will have been paid well. I am guessing that he kept his winnings close?”
“Yes master. And the Eorledman has his treasure there too. It is in the safe place beneath the office.”
He had volunteered the information to ingratiate himself to me. I said, “Good although I would have looked there first. And my title is Jarl. I was a slave once and I do not like the term master.”
“You were a slave?” I nodded. “I think I have heard of you then. Do you have a magic sword?”
“I do. Where did you hear of me?”
“A ship came from Constantinopolis to Syracuse. The captain was young but he said that his grandfather had served a Viking warrior, a former slave who wielded a magic sword. I thought he had made up the tale or he had been in the sun too long.”
I turned to Haaken, “Josephus’ grandson. The Norns have spun long webs.”
Atticus had lost his fear or perhaps he had been playing the slave. He had his tongue now and he used it. “You knew of the secret place did you not ma… jarl?”
“We have found them before in the north. My wizard tells me it is where the Romans stored the coins to pay their legionaries and their valuables.”
He nodded eagerly, “And that is what they did here. If you take the treasure then the Eorledman will be angry. What will happen to me? Will I be left here?”
Haaken laughed, “And you would not wish that, would you, Greek? You would be punished for letting us steal the treasure.”
“The eorledman is not a reasonable man. Although it would do him little good he would have me killed. I would like to live.”
“Then if you serve me well you can sail with us.”
He asked, slyly, as we climbed the steps of the praetorium, “As a slave?”
“Serve me well and you can come with us as a freeman.” I stopped. “What skills do you have?”
“I can speak languages. I was a teacher. I know the study of mathematics and astronomy. I am learned.”
Haaken snorted, “And that means you are useless at fighting!”
Atticus said, quite reasonably, “It seems to me that adding a fighting man to a Viking warband would be of little use. You seem to me to have fighting men enough.”
I laughed, “He has you there, Haaken!”
When we entered the inner sanctum, Atticus began to push the table out of the way. He could not manage it. We both helped him and it moved easily. He smiled, “As you can see I am a man who uses his brains and not his muscles. The handle is there. It is fitted into the stone so that it is hard to see.” He knelt down and blew away the dust and stone which had covered it.
I reached down and pulled the handle. The secret door, although heavy, opened easily. Atticus went to a small oil lamp. Taking a flint, he created a spark and the oil lamp fired. He handed it to me. Haaken moved the door so that I could step down into the small room. This one was slightly bigger than others we had found. Aiden had told me that this had been the centre of the Roman world in their own province. That made sense. The chests I spied were not Roman. They were Saxon. I recognised the handiwork. I was slightly disappointed. Treasure from the Roman times or those just after tended to have a connection to us. This might be treasure but there would be no stories attached.
Haaken followed me down, “There are many boxes here Jarl Dragonheart. Should we wait for Ragnar? He will have men who can help us carry them out.”
“Afraid of a little hard work, Haaken?”
“Never! Come then.”
I shouted, “Atticus, we will bring up the boxes. I wish you to make a list of their contents and then mark the chests.”
I heard a thin laugh, “For a barbarian you have an ordered and organized mind.”
Haaken shook his head, “And for a slave he is a little too cocky for my liking.”
“He thought to die and has had a reprieve. Remember when Aiden put the plate in your head? How did you feel then?”
“You are right.”
We began to move the chests. Some were small enough for one of us to lift. Others took the two of us. When it was empty I saw just how big the room was. We both carried the last boxes up. The one I carried was long but remarkably light. I was intrigued. I saw that Atticus had moved the boxes so that they were ordered. Some were on the table. The ones he had examined each had a small piece of parchment attached to the chest by a blob of tallow. There was a number upon it. I laid down my chest and watched him work. He opened a box, scanned the contents and then went to a parchment where he wrote down a number and then a description. He scribbled a number on a smaller piece of parchment and, taking a tallow candle stuck the number there. He saw me watching him.
“I know what is in each box already. The eorledman and his champion had me do as you are doing. They did not like to be cheated. The difference is that that they wanted no record kept.” He smiled. “What the king did not know would not hurt them.” He nodded to the chest I carried, “In many ways that holds the most valuable treasure and yet the one which you will, probably not need.”
Haaken liked riddles and word games. “A valuable treasure that we will not need?” he looked up at the ceiling as though he would divine inspiration. “No, I cannot conceive.”
“They are the documents which give ownership of lands and estates in the valley of the Temese. Unless you intend to stay here and claim those lands you cannot use them.”
I liked this Greek and his quick mind, “Then if we take them we create confusion and mayhem?” He nodded.
Haaken laughed, “The Dragonheart becomes Loki!”
Suddenly our conversation was ended by a cry from outside. Olaf’s voice sounded, “It is Ragnar! The fleet is here!”
We stepped out and looked towards the river gate. Raibeart’s men were opening it and Olaf was pointing to the east. Our plan had succeeded. It had seemed fantastical but we had won.
Chapter 12
The Saxons had made our life easier for they had left the
quays by the fort empty. Tying up the largest drekar next to the quay the other, smaller ones made a longphort. We met Ragnar at the river gate. I turned to Olaf Leather Neck, “Take the men and move the Saxon ships closer. I would have my helmet, shield and wolf cloak.”
He laughed, “Aye and if any of these burghers try to stop us my axe will feed once more.”
Ragnar and Gruffyd strode towards us, “You did it Grandfather! I know not how but you did!”
“The gods were with us.” I put my arms around their shoulders and led them inside. “Did you have any difficulties?”
Ragnar nodded, “The Saxons broke their word. They brought the coin and grain and we returned their captives. As we were loading the drekar they launched an attack. We lost warriors.”
I had feared such move. Had I been there I would have planned for such an eventuality. Ragnar had lost his focus for a moment.
“They spied us moving down river. They are moving quickly towards these walls. They must know what we intend. They will be here shortly. We spied them as we passed Grenewic. Had the gods not sent a strong wind and our men not been heroes then they might have beaten us here.”
“I would not have worried. The walls are thick and they would have struggled to breach the gates but I am pleased you are. We have much treasure from within these walls but Lundenwic has more!”
“First we need to defeat the Saxons. Should we defend the walls?”
“If we do that then the churchmen will empty the churches and the merchants will flee along the Temese with their gold. Strike now. Send Gruffyd and four drekar crews into Lundenwic and the merchants halls and churches in Lundenburh. Ransack the churches and capture the merchants. They will tell us where their treasure is hidden. I am having the Saxon ships brought up. We can load those. I know your men are tired but so will be the Saxons. We march out to meet the enemy before he reaches here.”