by Griff Hosker
“Let them go. We have to get back to the ship. Haaken and Dragon Heart, get the weapons from the dead.”
The weapons were of poor quality but the metal could be re-used. Bagsecg was a fine blacksmith. We still needed to build him a workshop but it was early days; we had been on the isle a short time as yet. Haaken and I were the last of the column to reach the village. Butar had taken everything of value and burned the houses. The other men from the village lay where they had fought and died.
“Quickly, get back aboard the ship!”
With only thirty five men we had more space than when we had left Ulfberg. Four warriors watched the petrified prisoners. They were all tethered together and if they tried to escape by jumping overboard, they would all drown. I wondered if any of them was like I had been. Were they thinking of a new start? I was the only warrior who had been a slave and it gave me a unique insight into their minds. We headed back north and I assume there were other survivors watching who would tell their chief that the raiders had headed north. And so we did, we sailed the few miles to our new home, Hrams-a. We hoped that the Saxons would believe we had returned to Orkneyjar.
Bagsecg quickly fitted the wooden collars to the new thralls. If they escaped it would be disastrous as they could lead the Saxons to our new home. We put them in the warrior hall in the fort and six men guarded them. Butar was well pleased with the outcome. Although we did not have our own home yet, the three of us had a sheltered corner of the warrior hall. The warriors who shared it with us respected our privacy.
Butar and I cleaned our weapons together. I felt closer to him and Ragnar when I did so. “You did well today, step son. Another warrior band for your hilt.” He turned to my mother who now seemed to beam with pleasure the whole day long. “And we lost no men.”
Mother was always sensible. “You cannot afford to lose any. Where will we get new ones from? Cnut and my son are barely men. The shepherd boys will not be ready for a few years. We have to be careful and husband what we have.” I was the only one who saw the influence she had over Butar. In public she was always quiet and supportive of her husband. In the privacy of our home she offered him advice which he always took. If it had not been for my mother’s advice we might be fighting warriors such as us in Frankia.
The slaves were allocated the next day. My mother was given a woman and her three children. One of them was one of the boys who had run quickly from the raid. His name was Aed and I knew that he would take some watching. We spent the first day watching the slaves work as they built a hall for Butar and my mother. I would now sleep with the warriors. I made a coloured band for my sword hilt. This time it was red; all the bands I would use on Manau would be red.
Butar had us split into groups to guard the village at night. He was worried that the slaves would flee and tell the Saxons of our home. We were not yet ready to face them. We needed to weaken them first whilst strengthening our own defences. Cnut and I were on the small hillock overlooking the village and the sheep pens. We talked of the battle and Cnut was disappointed that he had only killed one man. “You have many warrior bands and I have but two.”
“I have been lucky and in the right place at the right time.”
“No, Dragon Heart you have been skilful. I have watched you fight and you show no fear.”
Little did he know the maelstrom that was inside of me. I was scared but I was more fearful of letting down my friends and my step father. When you finally find friends they become as valuable and dear as family. My eyes suddenly caught a movement. Someone was sneaking from the village. “Look, a thrall.”
We did not need words. Cnut went in one direction and I went in another we would cut him off. We were unencumbered by shields and helmets and were able to move swiftly. The thrall had his wooden collar on which made it difficult for him to move. He suddenly saw Cnut and ran in the opposite direction. He ran directly towards me. I pulled back my arm as I ran and when he turned, in horror to see me before him, I hit him with my fist and the whole weight of my body. He went down as though I had felled him with an axe. It was Aed. “Come let us take him back to Butar’s Hall.”
They still slept and so we bound his hands behind him and tied his feet to the post in the middle of the hall. He would go nowhere and he would be punished in the morning.
The village were all summoned to bear witness to the punishment of the slave. His nose was swollen and his eyes were black. I thought that was punishment enough. Butar was dressed in his mail shirt with his masked helmet and looked fearsome. I know now that he was doing this deliberately to frighten the slaves. He was, in reality, a kind and thoughtful man.
“This slave tried to run. In my land there are many punishments for such a crime; he could be blinded, lose a foot or lose a hand.”
There was a collective moan from the slaves and his mother fell to her knees at Butar’s feet. “Please lord, it was a mistake. I promise that he will not do it again!”
Butar remained impassive although it was hard to tell behind the helmet. “If I thought that other slaves would run I would kill you all here and now.” This time the moan was louder and murderous looks were directed at Aed who sensed the hostility of the others. Slavery was a common occurrence. My mother had been enslaved twice. Most of the women had been slaves. I was sure, from their looks, that some of the women had been captured as children and were only Saxon because of that. “If I choose to be benevolent and leave this wretch intact then how do I know it will not happen again?”
The mother saw a glimmer of hope and grasped the hem of the mail shirt. “I promise he will not run.”
“Very well but if anyone runs then the remaining members of that family will be killed.” All of our slaves belonged to family groups and that meant they were reliant on each other. I was not sure if Butar would carry out his threat but I had never known him break his word. Aed was released and rushed to his mother sobbing. She smacked him hard on the side of the head fully aware of how close she had come to losing him.
Bjorn and the others who had ambushed the Saxons were chosen to do the same for the western settlement. We all took it as an honour even though it meant we had to leave in the dark of night and wait in the cold autumn air. The first time I had been cold as we had waited for the sun to rise and so this time I took the wolf skin. Mother had fastened a leather tie so that I could wear it like a cloak over my shield. We each took our positions on the valley sides. I was halfway up and I sat next to a rock with the cloak wrapped tightly around me. I enjoyed the quiet and thoughts of Ragnar ran through my head. I imagined him as a young man doing much as I did. As I pulled the skin tighter I thought about Olaf’s revelation that he had been Ulfheonar. Olaf had spoken of them in hushed terms. They moved silently in the dark and were masters of disguise and hiding.
I heard sounds from behind me and I glanced over my shoulder. It was Bjorn and Haaken. I turned back to watch the track. “He cannot have disappeared. We would have heard if there had been fighting. He has probably wandered off.”
“No Bjorn. I was the next man and when I looked he was gone which is why I came to you. Perhaps the trolls have taken him.”
They walked straight by me and looked towards the road. “I cannot see him either, Haaken. He is not the type to shirk his duty. Perhaps you are right.”
I stood up. “Who are you looking for?”
The two of them leapt into the air and then spun around with their weapons in their hands. Haaken clutched his magic amulet. “Where did you come from? Did you come from the ground? Are you a wight?”
“I was here all the time and you walked next to me.”
“Impossible. We would have seen you.”
I shook my head and stood. I took off the wolf skin. “I used the cloak and that made me invisible.” A picture of Ragnar came into my head, “I was like an Ulfheonar.”
Bjorn looked intrigued, “A what?” I explained what Olaf had said and Bjorn looked at the skin. “I can see that this would work.”
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sp; Haaken had regained his composure. “We should be Ulfheonar.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jarl Butar thinks highly of us and we could be as wolves. We could learn to hide as Dragon Heart did and we could fight as a pack and defend the leader, you or Butar.”
Bjorn liked the idea. “But we would have to put it to the other men and swear them to secrecy. The others might resent this. But I like this idea. We will talk more in the warrior hall.”
Now that we had slaves Olaf had his own home built close to the ‘Ran’ and Bjorn was the senior warrior in the warrior hall. There was more room than in the one at Ulfberg and we would be able to talk quietly.
We went back to our watching. I had just felt the first rays of the sun warming my back when I spied the masts of a ship over the rise leading to the village. This time we were less than half a mile from the village and we heard the noise of battle sooner. We readied ourselves for the refugees we knew would be fleeing. This time the women were led by four armed men. Two of them had helmets and shields. These were warriors.
Bjorn ran to one while Haaken to the other. I spied a man with a long axe. He saw me and, swinging the wicked looking weapon over his head advanced towards me. I would need all of my skill and agility if I was to survive. His axe had a longer reach than my sword. He suddenly lunged forwards whilst swinging the axe. I stepped forwards and ducked. He had been aiming for my head and my manoeuvre took him by surprise. It would not work a second time and he began to swing in a lower arc. I would not be able to duck beneath it this time. He grinned, his yellow teeth showing in the early morning rays of the sun. He swung at my shield and this time I did not duck, I began to move to my right and spin. The axe started to bite into the leather of the shield but I was moving in the same direction as the axe and it did not connect. I continued my spin and I slashed with my blade at his unprotected side. Quicksilver bit deep into his side and I saw his ribs. He looked at the wound in horror and, before he could react I had hacked at his neck and killed him.
Once again two refugees escaped but the four warriors lay dead and we had six slaves, two women and four small children. Bjorn was wounded, although not seriously, as was Harald the Quiet. We tethered the slaves and headed into the village. This settlement had been bigger than the first and I think our first raid had made them more alert. I also saw that Olef the Tall was dead. We had lost our first warrior. Flames were already licking the buildings.
“Get on board!”
We embarked as quickly as we could and pushed off to sail north. As we rowed I saw two white faces on the hillside. We were being observed. Hopefully they would report that we were raiders from Orkneyjar or Ireland and would not seek us on Manau.
We had no ships to spare and could not give Olef the burial he deserved. Instead we built a pyre and, laying his sword on his chest, we sent him to Valhalla. That night we drank to his memory and, in the warrior hall told tales of his bravery and the battles in which he had fought. He was, like the rest of us, a young man. We did not feel sadness for him. He would be with Ragnar and the other warriors feasting, fighting and drinking forever. It was a good place to go.
His death acted as a spur to finish our defences and our buildings. Our two towers afforded us clear warning of any stranger who approached. The two fishing boats were also our eyes. One fished to the east and one to the west. They would tell us of any enemy. The new thralls must have been told by the first slaves of the threat from Butar for they behaved impeccably. Perhaps they believed that they would be rescued. We discovered, from our new thralls, who ruled the island; it was a Saxon called Aella. When Edwin had conquered the island, four generations ago it was Aella’s family who had been given stewardship of the isle. The main settlement was called Duboglassio and had been the centre when the old people on the island lived there. They had long since disappeared but the name remained.
The fact that warriors had fought us was a warning that Aella would not have to rely on just farmers. We were told that he had Housecarls; he had warriors who were oathsworn and would be both well armed and well trained. We would have to defeat them before Butar could claim the island.
A few days after we had returned from the raid and buried Olef, Bjorn and the rest of his hunters sat in a corner of the warrior hall. Haaken told them of the Ulfheonar and his idea to make us a secret cult who would become like the wolves; invisible and fierce. We could not take another oath but we could all join such a cult and each warrior wished it so. We joined each other with blood. We made a cut and held our hands to each other so that we became blood brothers. That was as strong a union as an oath and Bjorn was happy with the arrangement.
“We still serve Jarl Butar and we are still his oathsworn but now we have a rallying cry, ‘Ulfheonar’. When we hear that we fight as a pack and protect the leader.”
We all agreed and I slept happier that night knowing that Butar now had eight protectors. I had discovered that Butar and his men did not fight together; they fought as individuals. The Saxons fought as a line, protecting each other. A leader’s life only lasted so long as he had skill. I did not want Butar to die. That night, as I fastened another warrior band to my sword I sent my thoughts to Ragnar. He would be pleased that we would be protecting his son.
Chapter 9
We saw Aella’s scouts the next day. Godfrid was in the tower and he shouted down, “Saxons.”
We kept ten men in the hillside fort each day and it happened to be us. I grabbed my bow and raced up the ladder. We still had not built steps to the walkway but we were young fit men and it was not a problem to climb a rickety rough made ladder. I quickly strung my bow and notched an arrow. Godfrid pointed to the south. I could not see anything at first and then I detected a movement. It was beyond my bow range. I could hunt well enough but I was not a good enough archer to hit at distance. The Saxons must have gained confidence that we did nothing for they approached a little closer. They had leather helmets, swords and shields. They stopped about four hundred paces from the walls and had a discussion. Had we had horses we could have run them down but we had not managed to capture the wild ponies we had seen. They began to move down the slope towards the river. Bjorn, who was still bandaged shouted, “Cnut, go and tell Butar there are Saxon scouts. Godfrid and Dragon Heart see if you can hit them with an arrow. The rest of you come with me.”
Bjorn led the men out of the gate. I loosed an optimistic arrow and it plunged into the earth fifty paces short of them. It encouraged them to come a little closer and that was a mistake for Godfrid was higher than I was, being in the tower, and his bow had a greater range. It helped that Godfrid was an archer. His arrow soared high into the air and struck one of them in the upper arm. I heard his cry of pain. The other two grabbed him and withdrew. Bjorn and the others gave chase but the three scouts had had enough and fled.
Butar and the rest of the warriors joined us. “So the Saxons know we are here and they will come soon.”
Cnut, inevitably gave voice to his thoughts, “Do we fight them from the walls?”
Olaf cuffed him about the head, “Foolish boy!”
Butar was more kindly. “No, Cnut, for then they would destroy our homes and our ship. If we had more men then we would be able to do as you say. No we will put the thralls and the women and children in the walls with Bjorn and four warriors. The rest of us will meet them beard to beard down there.” He pointed to the river and the valley bottom. “There, with no room to manoeuvre, our small numbers will aid us.”
That was our battle plan. It was the way of our people. There was little planning; you relied on the skill of every warrior. What worried me, as I sharpened my sword and daggers was that we had too many untried warriors who had not fought in battles. I just hoped that the Saxons were as inexperienced as we were. Bjorn came to Butar’s Hall to speak with him. “Jarl Butar, have I offended you? Why cannot I fight with you and the others?”
“Because, Bjorn, you are too valuable. You are wounded still and I need a lea
der to watch over our people. Haaken can lead your little band. It will do him good to be a leader.”
Bjorn could see the sense in Butar’s words and realised he was not being punished. “You will only have thirty warriors. Will that be enough?”
“Unless you can think of some way to make more warriors overnight it will have to be.” There was a wry smile on my step father’s face. “It will all depend upon this Aella and how many men he brings. Thanks to Godfrid’s arrow they did not see our numbers they only know that there are enemies and they have a sanctuary on a hill. Let us see what the Norns have planned for us.”
Mother had two of the older sheep slaughtered and cooked up with the vegetables which were now looking worse for wear. The cauldron would be carried up the hill and would give food for the next days. The valuables from the settlement were placed aboard ‘Ran’ and the fishermen took her into the bay and anchored her there. They would stay with our only means of escape should this sanctuary become a trap.
They did not come the next day. But we had prepared; the women, children and slaves were sent to the fort for their protection. We knew that they would come soon, for within a month we would be in the depths of winter and it would be harder to move even on such a small island. Aella had to protect his domain. Already I could see that he was a cautious man and his attack would be both deliberate and thorough.
They came the next morning. They had not travelled during the night for it was late morning when we saw their scouts coming along the valley. Butar turned to Bjorn, “Look after my family.” Bjorn nodded, “Warriors, let us win this land from the Saxon thief.”
The men roared but, as we descended I reflected that we were thieving from the Saxons. Perhaps it was because my mother claimed some sort of kinship with the people who lived here that Butar felt justified. I was a warrior without a land at the moment. I would just trust in Ragnar and my blade. Would I add to my warrior bands or would I become a trophy for a Saxon?