Viking Slave

by Griff Hosker

  It did not take long to carry the bodies and hurl them but I had to endure Tadgh’s looks of hate. We had just thrown the last one and I had turned when I felt a terrible pain in the back of my head and I fell into a deep black hole.

  When I regained consciousness Grefelle was looking at me with concern on his face. “Thank the Allfather that you live. I could not have faced my old friend Ragnar if his thrall had died.”

  “What happened?”

  “The slave Tadgh struck the back of your head with a rock and then ran towards the fiord. I would have run him down but I was concerned about you.”

  I stood unsteadily and Grefelle supported me. He looked to the fiord which was now bathed in the sunlight of a new day. “Look! He is there!”

  We could both see Tadgh running towards the dragon ship and waving his arms. He was joining the raiders. I wondered if I would ever see him again and then it all went black once more.

  When I came to I was in Butar’s Hall and I saw mother’s anxious face peering down at me. She gave a gasp and put her hands to her mouth, “He lives!”

  Ragnar’s face appeared next to her and he smiled, “I thought you were gone to the Otherworld, thrall.”

  I tried to sit up, “Tadgh!”

  “You rest. Tadgh has fled with the raiders but that was three days ago. Olaf the Toothless still commands and he has ordered that you be rested until I say you are fit to walk outside again. Head wounds are dangerous.” She stroked my hair, “Typical of Tadgh to attack from behind. I will get you some broth.”

  Ragnar put his face close to mine, “Your mother is a force of nature, thrall. I can see why my son is so enamoured of her.” He cackled. “It was she who told Olaf you needed rest and even Olaf quailed before her.”

  As we waited for my broth Ragnar told me how they had seen the raider’s ship sail away. The raid had cost us dearly for six men had died and a slave had run but Ragnar seemed exultant. “The men of Stavanger will not be able to show their faces for many years. A boatload defeated by a handful of warriors, a one armed man and a thrall. When Harald has his saga composed their shame will live forever.”

  “And Haaken?”

  “He has a patch where his eye was and his arm heals. He will still be able to go a-Viking and like all the other warriors he now has another helmet and swords. You have a quiver full of good arrows. Olaf sent the thralls who were friends of Tadgh to collect them from the forest. It may have been an ill wind which blew but it blew for us. The Allfather watched over us and,” he reverently touched the wolf charm, “the charm of your ancestors helped. You see we old ones have powers beyond the grave.” He cackled again.

  My mother came in with my broth. “And you will be in your grave sooner if you do not rest. I will bring your broth soon. A man of your age fighting warriors; who has ever heard such a thing.”

  Despite her words her face showed me that she was proud of the old man and, by association, of me. She gently sat me up and then fed me the broth. Between mouthfuls I asked her more questions. “The sword and the helmet; they are safe?”

  “Aye and a good thing too. The next time you go into danger at least your head will be protected.”

  “Can a thrall go to war?”

  “I do not know. In the land of your father it would not happen and in my land we had no slaves but I do not know these people and their ways yet. We will see what Butar says when he returns.”

  We heard the snores of Ragnar as he slept and mother smiled. “It is good that he rests. Butar will be glad that he survived.”

  “Mother you and Butar…”

  “Yes my son we are as husband and wife.” She looked down at me, concern on her face, “Does it bother you? I mean your father…”

  “No. I like Lord Butar and I barely knew my father. I cannot remember him speaking to me over much and his face is fading.”

  “He was a hard man to like but he protected us.”

  “Lord Butar appears as though he is the leader here and not Harald One Eye. They do not seem to get on. Why is that?”

  She lowered her voice, even though there was no-one to hear. “Harald’s father and Ragnar were brothers but Ragnar lost his arm defending his brother who abandoned him and Olaf on a raid. They escaped but Ragnar swore he would never speak to his brother again. Olaf was oathsworn and had no choice. It is why Ragnar lives outside the village. When Harald became Jarl he gave all the men the choice of becoming his oathsworn or leaving the village. Butar was going to leave but many of the men would have followed him and Butar had too much honour to destroy his people. He stayed but many of the men look to Butar in battle and not Harald but never speak of this. It is bed talk.”

  “I will not mother. I have killed in battle. I am a man now and I will take a man’s responsibilities.”

  She took away the empty bowl and kissed me on the forehead. “You are my son and I am so proud of you. Your grandfather was a mighty warrior and he would have been proud of you and your deeds. He slew many Saxons and people feared him. He came from a long line of warriors and you continue that line.”

  By the time the men returned from the raid I was healed enough to walk about the village. I noticed a change in the attitude of the villagers. They smiled at me more and even Olaf the Toothless seemed disposed to scowl less when I passed. Now that Tadgh had gone there was just Saelac who gave me evil looks. Unlike when I had lived by the river I no longer feared his wrath. I had faced down a pack of wolves and Stavanger raiders; Saelac would not bother me.

  The first thing I did when I was allowed up was to clean the sword and helmet. My head wound was too tender for me to try it on but my mother said it would be a little too big. She made a small cap from hare fur to fit inside and I prayed for my wound to heal so that I could try it. I was a conical helmet with a nasal; a piece of metal to protect the nose. Ragnar liked it. “With a leather byrnie you will have much protection. All you need now, Dragon Heart, is a shield.” He smiled at me, “But I would keep them hidden from my son until your mother has spoken of them.”

  So when the mast of the ‘Sif‘ was seen I was both excited and fearful. It seemed to take an age for the dragon ship to edge up the fiord. It was low in the water which suggested a successful raid. This time there were few animals and no males. The boat appeared to have many women and girls. I also noticed that at least two warriors were missing. Harald led the way and he was accorded a cheer. I saw Olaf waiting to speak with him. Butar joined them and they huddled together as the slaves and plunder were taken from the ship. Suddenly Olaf pointed in my direction and they all looked at me. Finally they headed up to the warrior hall. I bowed my head as they passed and saw the hint of a smile playing on Butar’s lips.

  I returned to Butar’s hall. The old man was keen to get back to his own home. He had had enough of the company of others. He had promised his son to stay there while he was away but he was desperate for us to return to the cave home he loved. “Thrall, gather my belongings by the door. When we have seen my son and said our farewells, we will depart. Do not forget the bow and the quiver. We still have lessons on hunting.”

  Butar seemed to take an age to reach us and I could see that my mother was eager to greet him. When he entered she threw propriety to the wind and flung her arms around him to embrace and kiss him. After they had disentangled themselves Butar smiled. “Well Dragon Heart, I hear that you and my father are not content to sit idly by when I am away, you insist on fighting off a band of raiders.”

  “Pah! It was but the men of Stavanger. The thrall and I could have held them alone.” Ragnar was dismissive of the raiders.

  I did not believe that for one instant but I think it was Ragnar telling his son that he did not need to be protected. “Well whatever the cause, Harald One Eye is throwing a feast in honour of the defenders of his home. You two, as well as Haaken and Olaf, are to be honoured.”

  “I wanted to get home.”

  “Father, is one more night too much to ask? I have not seen you, unless,
of course, if you have tired of the company of Myfanwy?”

  “No, of course not. One more night but we leave at dawn and Dragon Heart here can take some of our belongings up today.”

  “Of course.”

  My heart sank. I had hoped to hear the tale of the raid but I was a slave and I obeyed. I gathered the belongings together and laid them on a sled made of hazel branches. I fixed a rope around my shoulders and began to drag it up the hill. I could feel my shoulders burning by the time I reached the house. I unpacked everything and stored them in the correct place. With someone who was half blind like Ragnar, the position of even minor objects was vital. I also cleaned out the material which had blown in and chased away a couple of mice who had tried to set up residence in my bed. I hid my helmet and my sword along with Ragnar’s in the shelf in the cave. I chopped more logs for the fire and stacked some close by. I then took my bow and headed up into the higher ground where there was still some snow. I needed to check for any tracks. The memory of the wolf attack was still fresh and I wanted to discover if they had returned. They had not.

  By the time I reached the village again it was almost dark and we would soon be getting ready for the feast. Mother insisted that I change from my leather jerkin and put on a tunic. “But I have only my old tunic and that is not fit for a feast.”

  “No you do not. Butar and the men took a chest of clothes on the raid and we have two fine tunics for you.”

  They were indeed fine and must have been made for a Saxon who was rich for they were dyed and well dyed at that. My mother stood back and admired me. She took a beautiful carved bone comb Butar had given her and dragged it through my protesting hair. “There. You look a little less like the wild child. You will need to braid your hair or cut it.” Men did not cut their hair nor did they shave their faces. I would have to learn the skill. My hair now hung almost to my shoulders. My mother put her arms on my shoulders and looked at me. “You are now the same size as you father was. You have grown over this past year.” I realised then that I had been a slave for a year and yet it had been the best year of my life. What horror did the gods and sisters have in store for me? Everyone knew that you had to pay for good fortune one way or another.

  This time I was seated between Haaken and Olaf. Haaken looked quite dashing with his leather patch. He grinned as I sat next to him. “Who would have thought that things would turn out like this?” He leaned in to me. “I will confess that I thought the three of us would all die on that wall and I was prepared to go to the Otherworld that night.”

  I had not thought about it. I had been so scared that I had not thought of death only survival. “I am glad that your wound was not serious.”

  He shrugged, “A good warrior is measured by his wounds.” I thought that the wounds should be on the warrior’s enemies.

  Harald One Eye stood and all went silent. “This is a double celebration. We have come back richer than we dared dream of and our home was saved by the brave warriors we left behind. Haaken will give us the saga of the defence of Ulfberg.”

  Haaken stood and began to chant his poem. He must have been preparing it for some time as it flowed like a mountain stream and everyone was enchanted. I heard my name and Ragnar’s mentioned more than once and saw Ragnar allow himself a self satisfied smile. As with all sagas we were made to sound braver than we were. The treachery of Tadgh was greeted by scowls and boos as well as sympathetic looks in my direction. The warriors who had been on the raid had no idea what had gone on and I could see the looks of amazement on their faces. When he had finished he took a little bow as the table was banged. He then had to repeat it so that they could all appreciate the music of the poetry and the words. Haaken was much better than Harald had been.

  When he had finished for a second time Harald One Eye stood. “I have decided to take a wife on this special night. I will marry the Saxon princess Aethelfrith, daughter to Aethelred.” I wondered how that would work for he already had a thin faced wife called Freya. Perhaps a Jarl was allowed more than one wife. It would certainly make life within the hall interesting. I must have been the only one to speculate for everyone cheered and Harald looked well pleased with himself.

  I turned to Haaken, “Why are they so happy?”

  Olaf answered, “Our Jarl sees himself as a king. If he marries the daughter then he has a claim to the throne.”

  “But we are but a handful of warriors.”

  Olaf smiled his toothless smile which was always disconcerting, “We will soon have more warriors. Word will spread of our success and there are always warriors who are eager to follow successful leaders.”

  Before I could answer Butar stood, “And I too will take a wife. I will marry Myfanwy.” My mother was very popular with the men for they admired her stoic bravery and her cooking. The cheers were even louder. Butar held his hands for silence, “And in honour of that and because of his bravery I now free my thrall Dragon Heart and adopt him as my son. Dragon Heart will become a warrior and I think that he will be a great warrior.”

  Everyone cheered the news and both Olaf and Haaken slapped my back but Harald One Eye threw a baleful glance in my direction. The cheers were louder for Butar than they had been for him. He did not like his sun being eclipsed by Butar and I wondered what it presaged.

  Chapter 5

  I pondered what changes would result as a result of my emancipation. Haaken tried to get me drunk which was the first change but I was wise enough to resist. Eventually Butar rescued me and took me back to his hall. When we reached it my mother was waiting with joy written all over her face. After she had embraced me Butar said, “I did not ask you before but how do you feel about my adoption?”

  Both my mother and Butar seemed to hold their breath as they waited for my reply. “I would be honoured to be as a son to you.”

  “Good!” He seemed genuinely relieved.

  “But you still live with me boy!” Ragnar sounded quite concerned that I would leave him.

  I grinned. It was the first time he had not called me thrall. I risked some cheek as the mood seemed to merit it. “Of course old man!”

  My mother looked shocked for a moment and then Ragnar cackled his ancient laugh. “And I will have time to beat some sense into this new member of the family so that he respects his elders!”

  Now I understood the present of the new tunics and the knowing glances my mother and Butar had exchanged. They had wanted me to look like a freeman when the news was announced.

  “This means, Dragon Heart that you will need to train as a warrior. When we next go raiding you will be amongst us. Harald One Eye has given orders for a second ship and I am to command it.”

  The prospect was exciting; I would go a-Viking.

  The next day Ragnar and I returned to our home. It felt different somehow when we walked through the door. I had left a thrall and now returned a freeman. I took out my sword and my helmet. They would no longer need to be hidden. I used the cap inside the helmet and tried on the helmet. I found it fitted well.

  Old Ragnar could not see it clearly but he ran his fingers around it. “It is a fine helmet. Keep it covered with grease when you are not wearing it and it will not rust. Let me feel your sword.”

  I handed him my sword and he balanced it. He held the hilt up to his rheumy white eyes. “You will need to take these warrior bands off. It does not do to claim another man’s victories. It will bring bad luck.”He suddenly peered at me. “Have you named your seax yet?”

  I had not. “No. Not yet.”

  “Did it not speak with you in the battle?”

  I remembered the warrior I had emasculated. “There was a scream when the warrior died.”

  “Then it did call to you. It is Screaming Death. That is a good name. Your sword has none as yet but it will call to you when it tastes blood.”

  After I had removed the warrior bands the hilt looked bare and naked. I decided I would put on a new grip which would make it mine. That would have to wait until we visited the
village again. When I had finished sharpening it I put in into its fleece lined scabbard. Ragnar was tired but he was still able to give me orders. “Put the pot of food next to the fire to warm and then go and cut some logs.”

  “But there are plenty for the fire. I did that the other day.”

  “No, boy. These are for your shield. We must make the new warrior in the family a shield. You will need to cut straight logs which will split easily.” My face must have shown my joy for he said, “Next time listen first and moan later.”

  I knew exactly where to look for my wood. There was one oak tree on the lower slopes of the hill. I rarely used it for firewood, partly because the wood was too good to be burned and partly because it was some distance from Ragnar’s home. This time I did not mind the journey. There was a long straight branch which came from the bottom of the main trunk; I decided to use that. I was quite adept with an axe and soon had the branch down. I trimmed off the smaller branches and then dragged them all back up the hill. I was keen to begin making my shield but I did not want to risk making a mistake. The sun was setting and I knew I would have to wait until the following morning. I dragged the branch inside the house and laid it against a wall well away from the fire. It would not do to dry it out too quickly.

  Ragnar had awoken and we ate our food. “What do I call you now sir? You are not ‘master’ and I would not insult you by calling you old man.”

  He nodded, “Respectful and thoughtful, I like that. Call me Grandfather for you are now the step son of my son and I would have liked a grandson.”

  I liked that. “Good, then, grandfather, tell me how we will make my shield.”

  “You need to cut that log into pieces which are as long as your leg. We will strip the bark and then split the wood into planks. It is important that they are the same width. We will need some nails from the smith. When the wood is seasoned then we join the planks and cut the shape. We make it from thin planks and we layer them so that the grain goes in two directions. It will give added strength. We use glue made from deer hooves to make sure that the planks are bonded to each other. Then we nail the planks together to give even more strength. We need a metal disk for the middle to protect your hand. Finally we will need a deer hide to cover it with.”