by Griff Hosker
I clasped Cnut’s arm. “Brother.”
He clasped mine, “Brother.”
When I put the sword back in its scabbard I felt as though I had grown taller. It was impossible I know but that is what I sensed as Cnut and I returned to the warrior hall. Our lives changed that night. I never added another warrior band to the hilt for that would have been a sacrilege. I did not need to show the world of my victories; the sword would do that.
The next morning the story was all around the settlement and everyone, thralls included, wanted to see this magical sword and hear the story of Ragnar’s Spirit. Bjorn and Haaken could not believe that they had not been there to witness the event. “For once I wish that it had been I who was nearly struck by lightning. Do you realise, my friend, that your sword has been touched by the gods? If you were to sell…”
Bjorn shook his head, “No Haaken, the sword will only be magical for one warrior, Dragon Heart. That is what makes this special, for when he fights, he will have Ragnar with him and he was the best warrior ever to come from Ulfberg.”
If I thought that a special sword would afford me special treatment I was wrong. I still had duties to perform and I still had to patrol the walls. When I saw Bagsecg he looked at the blade. “I have made many swords in my time but never one which was touched by the gods. I know that it is wrong to ask but, as the maker, can I touch it please?”
“Of course.”
I handed it to him and he held it briefly and then gave it right back. “It burned!! I who can stand fires hotter than hell could not hold the hilt. It is true then.” He shook his head. “I will make all the other swords the same way. Perhaps one of those will be touched by the gods.”
As far as I was aware no other sword was ever struck by lightning but those made by Bagsecg and his son Bjorn were highly prized and he became the finest sword smith on the island. Once the word spread then warriors would come to trade for a sword from Manau. That was the future and, as we emerged from our storm we had to repair the damage wrought by the gods. The tower’s damage was easily repaired but the rain had flooded the sheep pens and we had to move them to somewhere higher. Two of the huts had been wrecked by the rains.
Butar was a calm leader. He and my mother looked at the site and chose better ground for the new huts. Being the Jarl he was he shared his home with the new families. He would not have any of his people suffering if he could do anything about it. Mother, of course, saw a way to make things better for them both. Now that she had been in the bay for some time she had spied a better site for their hall. It was on the slopes below the fort. There was a rocky base which would provide a more solid foundation and, when the two huts were repaired she set Butar and the rest of us making a new hall for her. Bagsecg appeared to have grasped the idea of making Roman rock, as we called it. She would have a stone base for the hall.
We had just laid the lower levels when Olaf returned. He too, had suffered during the storm and it had delayed his return but he brought good news. “We will have new warriors within a month. Hrolf told me that there has been a war in our homeland. Harald One Eye has fought the men of Stavanger and captured their port. They, in turn, have ravaged outlying villages in search of new homes. A small boat with warriors passed through and told them. They said they were heading west to find new lands.”
“Beyond the edge of the world?”
“Aye they were reckless. Hrolf said he would tell all of our new land and he will happily trade with us.” He then peered around the village and saw the damage and the new work. “It seems I missed much.”
We told him all that had happened. Olaf had never shown much emotion in all the time I had known him but when he heard of the sword touched by the gods I saw a different Olaf the Toothless. He looked in genuine awe of me and my blade. “Ragnar’s Spirit.” His voice almost trembled. “I can see how the old man would not release his hold on life easily. He fought his whole life and he loved you Dragon Heart, I know that.” He dropped to one knee. “I will serve Ragnar’s Spirit. I will protect Ragnar’s family.” It was a simple oath but a binding one. He was already Butar’s oathsworn but now he swore to guard my mother and me. I was touched. It was not that long ago that I had been a thrall and now the thrall master was offering me protection.
The storm also marked the beginning of winter. We never had snow on our island, at least not snow which lay on the ground. We had sudden snowstorms which melted straightaway. We had frosts but they disappeared with the first rays of the sun. Our land at home would be locked in snow and ice for half the year; here it lasted a night at most. Even the high places escaped the ravages of a true winter. Our patrols did not see any more Saxons. We took one close to Duboglassio and we saw that it too had been badly damaged in the storm. They were too busy repairing the damage from the gods to fight us. We had a breathing space for men to heal and for Bagsecg to manufacture more weapons.
He worked on my mail shirt for me. It was tricky and intricate work. Each link had to be joined to all its fellows and beaten by hand. His son soon became an expert in the work for his fingers were small enough to manipulate the rings. When it was finished it was given to me to clean and polish. I took the sand and the sheepskin and I rubbed it each day until, after a week’s work, I had a shiny mail shirt. Cnut was now my brother and he did not exhibit the same envy. He showed pride in my good fortune. “Do not worry Cnut. We will get you a mail shirt in the same way I got this. We will fight the Saxons again in the spring and they have such shirts.”
I was loath to lose my captured sword. Olaf heard me talking about it and said, “Why not wear a second scabbard across your back. I have seen you fight and your left hand is almost as good as your right. Ragnar’s Spirit is a special sword and should not be used against the lesser men from the fyrd.”
Bjorn disagreed, “I believe that Ragnar entered the blade to be a beacon for our people. I know that if I am going into battle I will feel happier knowing that Ragnar is amongst us again and that we have a sword touched by the gods.”
They continued to argue but I was happy to have a second scabbard on my back. I just had to make a new one for Ragnar’s Spirit. The winter might have been less harsh but the nights were almost as long and I used the nights in the warrior hall to fashion a scabbard fit for my weapon. I chose oak for the outside. I cut it so that, with the sheepskin inside, it was a comfortable fit. Once I had bound the two sides together I covered the whole in some deer hide I still had from the old country. After the leather was fitted I could give it the decoration it deserved. I spent some time on the beach looking for the crystals which washed down the river. I spent a whole month until I had exactly the right colour. I polished and smoothed them until I was satisfied that they were right and then I began to finish the scabbard. I painted, carefully, a dragon on the scabbard. Its tail was at the bottom and its head at the top. I used the stones to represent the scales of the dragon and I used glue made from goat’s hooves to stick them. I knew that I would have to replace some of them after combat but I had collected more than I needed. I kept it secret from all but Cnut. He too began to make one similar for his sword.
“We are brothers, let us look like brothers.”
I helped him to make his and my experience made it a quicker process. When Bagsecg brought me my repaired helmet I knew that I had changed. The helmet hid half of my face. I let Cnut wear it so that I could see the effect and it was chilling. Bagsecg nodded his approval. “There is one thing you could do to make it look even better.”
“Tell me.”
“Most men wear a shiny helmet. You are Ulfheonar and use the dark to hide. If we smear this with charcoal from the furnace and then burn it, your helmet will be black as night.”
“Will it harm the helmet?”
“No, I believe, it may make it stronger.”
And so we made the first black helmet at Hrams-a. The second was Cnut’s. We hurried back to the warrior hall with our helmets wrapped in sacks. We both had chests in the warrior hal
l and our new, precious objects were placed within.
Our first warriors joined us when the days became a little longer. It was a dragon boat but even smaller than ‘Ran’. There were ten warriors. They had brought with them four families. Their leader was Eric Olafson. He knelt before Butar, “We have heard you seek warriors and we are here to offer our swords. Our land was taken by Harald One Eye. We are the only survivors.”
Butar would not just accept any warrior and he asked questions. “Who was the Jarl of your village?”
“My father, Olaf Egillson. He and his oathsworn died defending his hall. I was charged with the protection of my mother and sisters.” He pointed at the white haired woman with him. “As you can see our ship was small. We were not a wealthy community.”
“Then, Eric Olafson, you are welcome. Your warriors can use the warrior hall.” He then pointed to the old Butar Hall which was now empty following the completion of the new one. “You and your family can have my old hall.”
Eric’s face showed his gratitude and his mother and sisters wept. I know from my mother that men can cope with the loss of a home far easier than a woman and Eric’s women could now have their own roof over their head. Eric waved his arm and his warriors all knelt. “We will be your oathsworn Jarl Butar and defend this new land with our lives.”
They were the first of many. Hrolf was as good as his word and men came in dribs and drabs. Some of them were sent away. They were the ones whose stories suggested they had broken their oaths or become outlaws. We sent them west to Ireland. As Butar said, one night as we ate, “We want men who will fight for this land as a home and not for plunder. They were a-Viking and Ireland and the west will suit them.”
It made more work for us as we added buildings. The warrior halls were now both full. The Ulfheonar moved into the one in the fort. We had now renamed it; Storm Citadel. The new warriors fitted in well. As we feasted with them the first night I was forced to tell the tale of the sword and the lightning. We had not yet made it into a saga; I was not a good story teller. Haaken promised me that he would create one which would do it justice.
Our whole world was turned upside when Mother went into labour and my sister, Eurwen was born. We had hardly noticed that my mother was with child. She worked as hard as any of the women and she never complained. The blond baby was born on the day that the first yellow flowers appeared. Her name meant golden one. Butar had never thought he would father a child and now that he had a daughter be was besotted by her. The men had a celebration where they wet the baby’s head. It meant that the mean all got drunk and told the father what a lucky man he was. Butar, whilst a little inebriated, confided in me that he did not mind having a daughter as the gods had given him a son. I was proud that he viewed me as such.
We had little time to give to my sister, for Saxon scouts appeared again. They were more cautious this time. They came at night and they came without us knowing they had come so close to our walls. The lesson had been learned. They would not risk us whittling their numbers down still further. They sent a couple of fishing boats to spy the harbour but when they saw two dragon ships they turned tail and fled before we could pursue them.
Eric, Butar, Olaf and Bjorn planned our course of action. As was the way with Butar he gathered all the warriors to explain what we would do. “We will not try to land at Duboglassio; they will expect that. Our scouts, the Ulfheonar, have told us that there is another beach further north which we can use. We will take ‘Ran’ and land our men there. At the same time Bjorn will lead another column of warriors to attack the landward side of the town.”
Egill, who had a wife and three children asked, “What about our families?”
“We will put them in the citadel with Olaf the Toothless and ten warriors to protect them. We will not risk them. We now have more warriors thanks to Eric and Harald.” Harald the Fair had arrived with eight warriors a few days before my sister was born. They had two women with them and brought our numbers up to be the same as the Saxons. King Aella still had his fyrd and the unknown warriors from the burg of Udi but we were confident.
The married men seemed satisfied that their families would be safe. The next day we went to war.
Chapter 11
Eric and his new men went with Butar on the ‘Ran’. Harald and his men, along with the other six new warriors, went with Bjorn. We had a long journey through the night to reach the hills overlooking their fort but we were all proud to be chosen. We had the harder task, we would be the ones who would have no support if anything went wrong. I did not know, until we began our journey that they were all excited to be fighting alongside the sword of the gods. My youth was outweighed by my sword and my experience. Even though Harald was older he spoke to me as an equal. When I emerged from Butar’s hall with my new helmet and mail shirt I could see the envy on the faces of the others. Cnut had blackened his helmet too. Now that we were brothers we wanted to be seen as the same. The shirt felt heavy but not too heavy. I knew that by the end of the night its weight would be more apparent but I was determined not to weaken. I owed it to Ragnar. I kept touching the lightning sword’s hilt for reassurance.
We travelled our ridge road, as we had before. It was early spring and still very cold but we were warmed by the thought of battle. Bjorn led but it was Haaken and then me who followed. The Ulfheonar were the leaders. After two hours or so of walking we halted for we knew we would be halfway there. We squatted on our haunches and chewed on the dried meat we had brought.
Suddenly Cnut held up his hand. We all became instantly alert. We craned our heads to hear what he had heard. At first there was nothing and then we heard the sound of metal on metal. Someone was coming our way. Bjorn signalled for us to spread out. We all slid our weapons silently from our scabbards. The sound of whoever was out there had made us even more cautious and careful. Cnut pointed to the valley below us. That was where he had heard the sound. We peered into the dark and then I saw the shapes. There was a column of men below us. I pointed and Bjorn nodded when he saw them. The Saxons were coming to attack us. It meant that when Butar attacked Duboglassio then he would have fewer enemies to fight but our home might be captured by then anyway. I did not envy Bjorn his decision.
We had no idea how many men were below us. It could be Aella and his whole army or it could be a few scouts such as us.. We were thirty eight warriors. He signalled Harald and Haaken to join him. They huddled together and he whispered his instructions. Haaken came back. He said nothing but he pointed to the column and drew a finger across his throat. That was enough for us. Haaken drew us to the right and Harald and his men went to the left. Bjorn went to the middle where the new warriors were. He waved his sword forward and we began to march slowly down the slope. Even had we wanted to run, it would have been a mistake. It would have alerted them to our presence. In addition we could have tripped on the treacherous stone covered slope. The dark of the hillside hid us as we approached. The column which looked to be three men deep, stretched down the valley. It was hard to estimate numbers. What was clear to me, as we closed with the Saxons, was that we could not hope to win. There would be too many enemies for us to fight. All that we could hope to do was to weaken them and make them return to their fort and leave our families alone. It would be a death worthy of a saga.
Bjorn must have given instructions to Haaken and Harald for, as he held up his sword, so did they. “Charge!”
We needed no further urging and we plunged into the column of men. I had seen the men I would strike. I knew that Cnut guarded my right and he would protect me as I protected Haaken to my left. I punched the warrior to Haaken’s front with my shield as Ragnar’s Spirit spitted the warrior behind him. The next two warriors fell over with the force and weight of our attack. As I stabbed one I smashed the edge of my shield at the head of another. I heard one Saxon cry. “They are invisible! They are ghosts!” I glanced at Cnut and realised that I could barely see him.
I knew we had to take advantage of this fear. We
were the end of the line and the warriors lower down the valley could hear nothing save the shouts of battle. “Cnut, Haaken. Follow me! Let us charge them!” It speaks well of my comrades that they did not question my words but turned so that I was in the middle and we ran at the approaching column. I suspect the better, braver warriors were at the front of advancing army for the ones we struck appeared petrified.
The three of us made a solid wall of wood and iron. Our swords whipped savagely out and found flesh wherever they struck. We punched with our shields and men fell. We did it silently and they screamed in panic as the three warriors in black hurtled through them. They began to turn and flee. A well armed warrior loomed before me in the dark, his white face showing clearly. We both stabbed forwards with our blades at the same time. He could not see my face and his sword slid harmlessly over my shoulder. Ragnar’s Spirit pierced his mouth. Suddenly I caught sight of a warrior in a long mail shirt with a skeggox and shield and he was moving towards me. I made directly for him and I did not slow down. He swung his axe in a huge arc. I raised Ragnar’s Spirit. Without slowing I spun around so that the axe head flew harmlessly through the air and missed me completely. I turned my sword and brought it crashing down on to his helmet. Bagsecg had made a wondrous weapon and the gods had perfected it. The sharpened edge went through the iron of the helmet and through his head. Haaken and Cnut killed the other two bodyguards of this Jarl. I stepped over the body and saw that there were no more warriors before me. They were fleeing down the valley. The warrior in the mail must have been their leader. I saw his three oathsworn lying around him.