by Griff Hosker
When we had seen enough we melted back into the woods and headed for the cliffs. Bjorn was there already. “We were worried.” He stopped and looked at my face. “What have you done?”
“I smeared mud to help me hide in the woods. We saw some Saxons.” I told him what they had said.
“Good. That helps us. Let us find this other place, this burg of Udi and then head home.”
The cliff path was a dangerous one for it could be seen both from the sea and from the ground below us. The attacks on their villages must have made them wary for we saw no-one. They must all have been keeping close to their homes. We saw the last settlement nestling in a wide bay at the southern end of the isle. It was not as big as Duboglassio but there appeared to be a large number of people there. They were building a wooden wall. We watched them for a while to ascertain their numbers and then headed north.
“We have spurred them into protecting themselves. Looking at the numbers of men we are still outnumbered. I hope Jarl Butar has a plan.”
“Knowing my stepfather and Olaf as I do I expect they will.” We went further west on our return journey to see as much of this small island as we could. We saw more of the little ponies but they shied away when we approached. A herd of goats were grazing on the upper slopes of the high peak we had climbed and they would also make a welcome addition to our resources.
It was dark by the time we entered the village for we had walked eight hours from just south of Duboglassio. We were exhausted. My mother was quite concerned. “I did not know if you had met with Saxons.”
“We did but they knew it not.”
Butar and Olaf listened to all that we told them. Butar nodded. “So we have not defeated them yet and they will attack again. I think we will send men out each day to watch further away and they can try to gather in the animals.”
“We need men Jarl Butar.”
Even Olaf had started using the title the men liked so much. “I know but we have none. Where will we get them from?”
“I could go with Egill back up to Orkneyjar. If we tell Hrolf that we have settled here then he could direct any other ships from home. There are many landless men are there not?”
“True. That would appeal to many warriors. You could also tell Hrolf that next summer we would be ready to trade.”
Olaf looked up, “Trade what?”
“I do not know yet but this island looks to be more bountiful than Orkneyjar so let us just see what we find.”
Olaf, Egill and two others set sail the following day and headed north. I did not envy them for the autumn storms were upon us. The waters were warmer than at home but the squalls and storms which blew from nowhere were equally violent. The ones who remained made our homes and defences stronger and we all tried to capture the horses and goats whilst watching for the next Saxon assault.
Chapter 10
When Bjorn led us across the hills the next day Cnut looked enviously at my cloak. “I have seen no wolves on this island.”
Bjorn laughed, “I think it is too small to have any wolves. They would have been hunted.”
Haaken was quick thinking, as he had shown on the night of the attack at Ulfberg. “We could go to the mainland and hunt for them there. Those hills that we passed on the way south looked to be forested and perfect country for wolves.”
“I do not think that Butar would sanction such a trip for we still need men here and not hunting for wolf skins. That will have to be for the future.”
Perhaps we were distracted by the conversation but whatever the reason the Saxons loosed the first arrow without us even seeing them. We were lucky that it was poorly aimed for it missed Bjorn by a hand span. It was warning enough and we unsheathed our swords and ran directly at them. We had no shields but we were warriors and could fight without one if we had to. I took out Screaming Death in my left hand and looked for an enemy. There were ten warriors although none had mail. We were but seven. They had the higher ground but they foolishly relinquished it to charge down to try to finish off what they thought was an easy target. We were not, we were Ulfheonar.
The Saxon warrior is a brave warrior but he is not a reckless warrior; we were. Not only that, we were also fearless. Even though I had been born a Saxon, or at least a half Saxon, I had been trained by Ragnar. Even without a shield and a helmet I thought I could best these. I saw that half of them were my age. I ran at two of them. They each had a bow which they were trying to loose at me. I ran, twisting and turning as I did so, they kept adjusting their aim. They would have been better to have loosed one in the hope that they might hit me but they did not and I was swift! I stabbed forwards with my sword as I slashed blindly with Screaming Death. The sword found flesh while the seax knocked the bow to the ground. I withdrew the sword and stabbed at the second boy but he was on his feet and running like a hare in spring time. An older warrior swung his axe at me and I leaned and twisted backwards. As the axe head whistled but a hand span from my face I jerked my seax forward and felt it bite into his side. He tried to run away from me, the blood seeping from his wound but the blood was in my head and I roared at him slashing with the sword. He held the axe up with two hands to protect himself but the sword smashed through the handle and then split his head in two.
I stopped for there were no more warriors before me. Behind me I saw the archer I had wounded with two other dying boys. The rest of the Saxons were fleeing back towards Duboglassio. Ejnar was nursing a wound to his arm and Aker had been struck by an arrow. “You two get back to the hall we will continue with the scouting. Take the weapons with you. They are of poor quality but I dare say Bagsecg will be able to use the metal.”
As the five of us trotted off, a little more carefully than we had before the ambush, I wondered at the attack. They looked to be young men keen to avenge what they saw as dishonour. I doubted that Aella and his warriors would be happy about that. They could ill afford for us to whittle down their numbers like this. We went all the way to the coast and the other burnt out village. We did not need to walk the last mile or so for we saw the same scene with carrion feasting on dead flesh. This one was also a graveyard and we headed back; there was nothing for us here. The goats we had seen previously had now wandered over to the northern side of the island. There were ten of them. I was not optimistic but Haaken insisted on trying to capture them.
We spread out in a half circle and began to walk towards them. They ran off but they ran in the direction of our village. We lost sight of them and we carried on walking. When we crossed the first ridge we saw them in the distance; they were munching the grass there. Bjorn had an idea which way they would go. “If they are seeking grass then they will avoid the river bottoms. The land to the west of the village has woods there. I think we can drive them towards the hill with our fort on top. It worked with the sheep. We have to go that way anyway. Let us just hope they choose the same path as we.”
We were less than two miles from our fort and even if we could only capture a couple it would help us through a winter when we might be hungry. The ducks, geese and chickens we had captured already would give us eggs but we had no spare livestock to slaughter. The land began to rise and still they scampered away from us. It all depended now on how alert the men in the fort were. If they could herd the animals to the gate in the fort, we could pen them easily. Luckily for us it was Butar himself. He must have been touring the defences for he saw the goats and organised the remaining warriors. A line of them spread out preventing the goats from descending the hill. When they turned the other way then we were there. We walked steadily uphill and the herd became tighter. Had we had a sheepdog then it would have been easier but when the leading goat walked through the gate, we knew we had them. The last one entered and we all followed, closing the gate behind us.
“Well done Bjorn, you Ulfheonar have been successful again. Aker and Ejnar told us of the ambush, you did well. I think next time we have the warriors take shields and helmets. Now that you have the goats then we are better sup
plied.”
“Do not forget, Jarl, that there is game aplenty close to Duboglassio.”
“Aye and Saxons too.”
Bjorn bit his tongue. He would have taken the risk. I was beginning to know Bjorn and he would find a way to persuade Butar. We spent the rest of the afternoon trying to tie ropes around the goats so that we could take them to the spare sheep pen. It was not easy but, by dusk we had succeeded and the women were delighted for they could now make cheese which all of us missed. We were still short of flour for we had not captured much from the Saxons.
Another eight men left the next day to patrol the borderlands. We had worked out a line that was three hours away from us. It took at least half a day for a force of warriors to get to us from Duboglassio and so a three hour line would give us ample warning. The rest of us had a half day duty in the fort and another half day to pursue our own trade. I spent my half day with Bagsecg and we began to work on my sword.
It looked ugly as a blank; there was no sword shape as such. It was a long and narrow piece of metal with a handle. Bagsecg plunged the blank into the fire and his son and I blew air into the fire through bellows made from a sheep’s stomach. It was hot work but I knew that it would be worthwhile. When the blank was red hot it was taken out and the two edges hammered until they were thinner. This was repeated until I could see that it had two visible edges. There was no point yet, that would come later. Bagsecg looked up at me. “You can have the sword now if you wish or we can make it even better.”
“I want the best sword possible.”
He nodded. “It is already the best sword in the village for it is a Frankish blade but we can make it both stronger and easier to use.”
He kept heating it but he no longer used the larger hammer. He used quite a small, delicate one and he beat a channel in the centre of the blade. “This will allow the blow to run freely from the tip and make it stronger.” He worked a while longer and said, “Now is the time for you to put runes on the blade. I can do this while it is hot.”
I thought about this as he heated the sword again. “I would like to honour Ragnar in some way.”
He nodded, apparently satisfied with my request. “We can put Ragnar’s rune and the rune of the wolf on the blade. They will make it even stronger.”
I was delighted with that and I watched fascinated as he made the runes in the red hot metal. The process took as long as both edges had done on the sword. I felt it was worth it. When he seemed satisfied he plunged it into the water.
When he was confident that it was cooled we took it to his grindstone. His son and I took it in turns to turn the huge wheel and the point of the sword gradually emerged. When that was finished he put an edge on to it. He fitted the pommel to the top and handed it to me. It still did not look like a warrior’s sword. We now began the laborious process of polishing which would turn it from a metal sword into a warrior’s weapon. I say we but it was left to me. Bagsecg’s son showed me the technique of taking sand and a sheepskin and polishing away the rough exterior to reveal the shiny sword beneath. The blacksmith and his son went back to making the items the rest of the village would need. I did not mind for the effort I put in would be rewarded when I used it. As night fell I finished the polishing. The runes now stood out really clearly and I took the sword to Butar’s Hall. I would eat there with my mother and then fit the warrior bands to the hilt after I had made the grip.
My mother had to force me to stop what I was doing and make me eat. I was obsessed. I had convinced myself that the other sword had failed because it still had the spirit of its previous owner. I needed to have something which was new and was mine. As I wolfed down my food she shook her head. “Why the rush? You are still just a boy.”
I looked at Butar for help. He was a warrior and he would understand. He just smiled benignly at me. “How old was Ragnar when he lost his arm?”
Butar was surprised by the question but he answered nonetheless, “Thirty summers. I was a little younger than you are now.”
“And that is why I am rushing. I do not know how long I will have as a warrior. When I am no longer a warrior then I will eat.”
“There is more to life than being a warrior my son. One day you will find a wife and give me grandchildren.”
The thought had not occurred to me. I did not even notice the girls in the village. It was then that I realised why. I had been away from all of them when I had lived with Ragnar and since then I had been a warrior. I had missed out on those years when boys played games with girls and learned about them. I had been isolated in the Saxon village and isolated in Ulfberg. I wondered how I would find out about women.
My mother frightened me when she said, “Do not worry about learning about women, my son. You will know when the time comes.” She could have been reading my mind.
When I had finished my food I completed the work on the hilt . Although it might have been better to wait for daylight to fit the warrior bands I felt that this was the perfect place and time to do that and so I took them from my leather pouch and carefully fitted them. There were eight of them for I did not count the farmers. When I touched the finished sword I felt my hand and arm tingle. This was my sword. Butar and mother admired the sword although I saw the envy in Butar’s eyes. Mother just saw the clean lines and the shiny surfaces. Butar saw the weapon.
The next few days saw more patrols and more work with Bagsecg until my helmet was finished and I had a new seax made from my old sword. That evening was my turn at duty in the tower and I was excited to be there in my new helmet with my new weapons. Cnut was jealous of me and begged to hold the blade.
“No my friend for I want all of its power for me. What I will do is stick it in the tower wall so that you may admire it, but not touch.”
I plunged the tip of the blade into the wooden log at the top of the tower and checked that it was secure. Cnut examined it in minute detail admiring the warrior bands, the sheen and the finishing touches we had applied. I could see him wishing it was his. When he became frustrated at not being able to hold it, we stood looking to the south. We stared at the dark wondering if the shapes we saw were Saxons or just bushes moving. I looked up at the sky; the moon had disappeared. “We will have a storm. I am glad that I have my wolf skin for it will stop me getting wet.”
“You are lucky, you know Dragon Heart. Is that because of Ragnar?”
“Aye I think it is. The old man loved me, I think. Well so Butar told me and I like to think he is up there in Valhalla now but I wish he was here. He will be with Thor and Odin.”
Just then there was the distant rumble of thunder and Cnut laughed, “There they are now!” I frowned. It did not do to make fun of the gods; even gently.
There was a flash of thunder in the distance and I held my skin above our heads. Despite what I had said I would not let my friend get wet. The rain began to hurtle down and then hailstones the size of small rocks. The thunder cracked and crashed louder and louder until suddenly there was a flash as a bolt of lightning struck my sword and threw both of us to the ground. I think I must have blacked out briefly. When I opened my eyes I expected to see my sword shattered but it still stood in the wood, blackened and steaming but there. I slowly got to my feet and went to withdraw it but it was too hot to touch.
Cnut stood near me, “Is it…?”
“I do not know.” Then I saw that my precious warrior bands had all been forged together. There was now just one red band in the middle of the hilt. “This is wyrd!”
The rain still pelted down and the sword still sizzled. I heard voices from below and saw Bjorn and Butar. Butar shouted to me, “Are you hurt? We saw the lightning strike the tower.”
I leaned over, “We are alive but the bolt struck my sword.”
“Come down, your mother is worried and the Saxons will not come on a night such as this.”
The sword had cooled sufficiently and I held it carefully as we climbed down the ladder. Butar and Bjorn stared at the sword as we told them what h
ad happened. “This is the work of the gods we must ask your mother what she makes of this. It is beyond my world.”
My mother held the sword in her hands and closed her eyes. “There is a power in here which is beyond mere metal. Tell me, both of you, what happened in the tower.”
“The lightning struck the sword…”
“No, my son, you both need to tell me what you said and the events which led up to this.”
The rain was still pounding on the turf roof of Butar’s Hall and the thunder still rolled around outside. I was becoming afraid. What had I unleashed? We told her everything and she nodded. “Now I understand. This is the power of the Otherworld. You have summoned Ragnar back from the dead. His spirit is here in this hall.” She seemed almost afraid to touch the sword which lay before the fire. Still the rain crashed and the thunder rolled. Cnut and Butar also looked fearful. “Nature has been upset and we must rectify it. You must name your sword my son and name it well. More rests on this than you can know.” She put her arm around me, “Be brave and hold the sword in your hands.”
“What do I name it?” I was becoming as fearful as the rest. Why had I not continued to use the other sword? What had made me create this monster?
She smiled, “You will know, believe me. Close your eyes and you will see the name.”
I closed my eyes and images suddenly flashed into my head, the wolves, the warriors Tadgh, and then I saw the name as clearly as I could see my hand. “Ragnar’s Spirit!” I must have shouted the name in my excitement for it seemed unnaturally loud and suddenly, as though someone had waved a hand, the rain and the thunder stopped and there was silence.
When I opened my eyes my mother was smiling at me and Cnut had his mouth and eyes wide open. “You have put nature back into place and all will be well. You now have the most powerful sword this side of the Otherworld and you must protect it.” She drew Cnut and me to her. “You are both joined now as brothers. The lightning of the gods, Ragnar’s Spirit and this sword have joined you. This is stronger than any oath and any blood. This is your spirit. Never betray it.”