The Ice King

by Hume, M. K.

  Summer came, and then autumn, but Arthur did not return to The Holding. Maeve wept for him, although she consented to wed Stormbringer in her brother’s absence when she found herself with child. Stormbringer was both shamed and elated by her condition, because he had been unable to bear her beauty and had seduced her under a warm summer sun. But after Maeve had gazed up into his face with green eyes that were clear and beautiful to tell him that she was quickening with a son, his happiness knew no bounds.

  ‘Arthur will refuse to return until he finds his place in the world,’ she told her husband one night after the marriage rites had been conducted by Father Lorcan. The priest had chosen to remain at The Holding to protect Maeve and Blaise after Arthur had begged this boon of him. Germanus and Gareth had gone with Arthur, although the younger Briton fully expected to be seasick during every moment spent on the water. Despite his disappointment, Lorcan knew his old bones couldn’t survive the rigours of such a voyage.

  Still, when winter came with a bitter and brittle early frost, even Lorcan began to feel the sharp edge of anxiety. Although he was convinced that Arthur’s preternatural gifts would protect him, the long period of silence depressed Lorcan’s usually ebullient nature.

  When summer came and went in a haze of flowers and fruit, and Maeve’s son began to crawl after his father while chortling baby talk, Ingrid and Sigrid also began to worry. They were slaves without a master, and Sigrid was now fifteen and lovely, for all that her temper was mercurial and her manner remained imperious. The passage of a second spring and summer seemed to bode Arthur’s death and their hearts were sickened at the suggestion that they might require a new master.

  At first, the two slaves had refused to fret. They knew their master very well and both women were certain that he had decided to remain in the north and make his fortune. ‘He’ll be searching for plunder that will allow him to leave the lands of the Dene, or he will die,’ Sigrid stated with finality. Her face said nothing, but Maeve sensed a deep longing in her and wondered what her brother meant to this awkward, difficult, but lovely young girl.

  Eventually, Frodhi began to forget that the Last Dragon had ever existed. But then, at the same time as a forlorn Stormbringer was beginning to look at his wife with saddened eyes and Ingrid’s son, Ingmar, had just commenced his training with weaponry despite his tender age of five, a mass of huge sails suddenly appeared on the horizon.

  ‘I told you!’ Maeve accused her nonplussed husband, and then patted the beginning of a paunch on Valdar Bjornsen’s belly. ‘No northerner could ever kill my brother! He’s obviously been preparing to meet his destiny and become the ruler of those lands across the seas.’

  ‘Perhaps they aren’t Arthur’s ships! Perhaps they are enemy vessels who wish to attack The Holding,’ Stormbringer retorted, but he grinned to let his wife know that he was speaking in jest. Nor did he remind her that she had been fearful of disaster for nearly three years. Valdar was too fond of her and too experienced in diplomacy to fall into that particular trap.

  ‘You idiot!’ she protested, and pinched him hard on the arm. ‘Can you see the sail on the horizon, the one that is ahead of all the others? If that’s not the red dragon sail of Sea Wife, then I’m going blind.’

  The citizenry of Stormbringer’s island were already on edge. Father Lorcan had sat the Sae Dene king down during the last winter and had explained the dangers of Justinian’s Disease to him in detail, much as he had warned Stormbringer’s sister some two years earlier.

  Cautious as always, Stormbringer had barred all traders from landing on the island during the past two years, for he preferred to take no chances with such a fierce disease. He could still recall the warning given by an old seer at World’s End, a no-name village that had taken in Stormbringer, his captives and the crew of his ship after Hrolf Kraki had declared them to be outlaws. The frail old woman, almost certainly dead by now, had told him that Maeve, his Maeve, would one day place her own safety at risk and would save many Dene lives after the onset of a great evil. Although three springs had come and gone, and no disease had stirred the sweet peace of their lives, the Sae Dene king continued his embargo on foreign ships when spring eventually returned to the north.

  Only two weeks earlier, a courier had arrived from the estate of his nearest neighbour with fearsome news. With his usual caution, Stormbringer had instructed the man to remain distant from the houses and barns and he had avoided close contact with the man while they spoke. Suddenly, he had been struck by a feeling of impending doom.

  The man’s memorised message had travelled from the king’s hall in Heorot.

  ‘Since you choose to lock yourself in your estates, I must petition you like a peasant to come to my aid in Heorot,’ Frodhi’s words were repeated. ‘A deadly disease has come to the halls of Heorot and the people sicken and die like cut flowers. They are alive in the morning, deathly ill at noon, and dead by evening. I insist that you come at once to our assistance, on pain of death.’

  ‘This message came from my cousin, King Frodhi?’ Stormbringer asked the courier, filled with a growing fear that his young family was under threat from a new and dangerous foe. Maeve had responded immediately, for she believed that she and Father Lorcan, who was experienced with this disease, should travel to Heorot. However, she had been convinced to wait until such time as little Sven was weaned.

  But any decisions would now be deferred by Arthur’s arrival at the head of this huge fleet. Already, Stormbringer realised that many of his warriors would choose to take ship with Arthur and remove themselves from the terrors of a disease that killed its victims at random.

  ‘So, our boy returns triumphant!’ Father Lorcan said, his Hibernian lilt a little more obvious than usual. As Stormbringer turned, a small figure atop Lorcan’s shoulders burbled at him and held his arms wide.

  ‘Dada!’ Sven had recently discovered names. ‘Lorka,’ he added. He giggled then, and his red-gold curls bounced disarmingly.

  Lorcan lifted the boy down and tickled him on the belly with his whiskery chin, producing more giggles.

  ‘Enough, Lorcan! Between you and Blaise, our boy will be spoiled rotten. I swear he’ll lose the use of his feet if she continues to carry him everywhere he goes.’

  Lorcan changed the subject. ‘There are a great number of ships in his fleet, so I’m wondering where they could have come from. That’s it! I’m becoming an old fool in my dotage! Arthur’s planning to return to Britain! The whole purpose of this voyage was the acquisition of men and ships rather than plunder.’

  Stormbringer had arrived at the same conclusion, even as Arthur was planning his voyage into the freezing north lands.

  ‘His plans have been long in the making,’ Stormbringer agreed. ‘I suppose you’re correct, but this news comes at a dangerous time for me and mine. Shite! Why can’t anything ever be easy?’

  ‘If life was truly easy, we’d live in a state of constant boredom. But I agree with your concerns, especially over the disease that Frodhi is battling in Heorot. Justinian’s Disease has been waiting to come into the north for some time, my lord, and its onset will definitely solve any problems of overpopulation. When we were travelling through the Frank lands during our journey into the north, the plague had gone before us, and only one person in ten managed to survive its kiss. Perhaps the cold winds that come down from Noroway have delayed its onset in these northern climes, but I fear the message you received from Heorot bodes badly for your people.’

  The old man sighed and handed the wriggling child over to a hovering woman who served as the wet nurse and surrogate mother whenever Maeve was busy. Stormbringer fondly considered how well his wife had done and how she worked amicably with Alfridda, who had been mistress of The Holding for so long that she could easily have resented sharing.

  But Maeve had been diplomatic, and she assumed her duties with such gratitude that Alfridda was charmed. S
o life had become a pleasant experience for the entire household until the news of this mysterious illness had abruptly surfaced.

  ‘Our boy returns to us at an opportune time, for I must be going to Heorot to give whatever aid I can to those affected by this illness,’ Lorcan added. He sighed softly, reluctant to give up his quiet and fruitful life at Heorot. ‘I’m fearful that your girl will be determined to journey to Heorot with me. I could never deny her anything, not even when she was no larger than young Sven. But she’s your spouse now, so I hope you might be able to talk some sense into her. I wish you luck in this regard, for the children of Bedwyr and Elayne are laws into themselves.’

  ‘Me? How could I change Maeve’s mind about anything? Even her love for me will not prevent my girl from doing exactly what her conscience dictates.’ Stormbringer had resignation clearly etched onto his face.

  Valdar could see that Father Lorcan had aged significantly during Arthur’s absence and his hair had whitened, even as it retreated to a fuzzy fringe around his tonsure. Although his eyes were as sharp as ever, they were buried in heavy wrinkled bags, much like those of an ancient tortoise. His bushy black brows, however, still bristled with life as they had always done.

  Lorcan walked with the assistance of a cane, for the cold of the north wind and the damp climate exacerbated the swelling in his joints. Old sword wounds and injuries incurred during his disreputable middle years had come back to haunt him too. Yet, typically, he was still able to joke about his increasing weaknesses.

  ‘You’re too old to undertake a task such as this, Lorcan, and little Sven would never understand why you would ever want to leave him.’

  ‘I’m immune to the sickness, so I can’t contract it – and who in the community would threaten a healer with physical harm when Death stalks the land? I’ll be safe in Heorot, as you know full well. I can understand your position! You don’t want Maeve to risk herself, so you’re hell bent on convincing me to stay put.’

  The old man patted Stormbringer’s hand and his eyes were suspiciously damp. ‘I don’t want to leave this place. I’ve found peace at The Holding after a lifetime of strife, and I’d not lift a finger to help that Frodhi bastard. He deserves to catch the disease himself.’

  Lorcan paused to regain his breath.

  ‘I’m not searching for vengeance. I’m a man of God and my place is to heal! God can bless the most unpromising persons and He has given me an opportunity to do His works and save as many innocents as I can. In days gone by, I was a sinner, a murderer, a mercenary and a lecher, yet God has given meaning to my life and has granted me an old age where I can still be of use to others.’

  Stormbringer, unable to find logical objections to this, held his tongue.

  Meanwhile, the approaching fleet sailed ever nearer to the cove beyond The Holding, so Stormbringer could no longer doubt that Arthur had, indeed, returned. He made his way to the nearby sand dunes.

  Sea Wife drove its bows into the sand of the cove as her rowers raised their oars above the slow wavelets. This flamboyant manoeuvre was completed flawlessly. The rest of the fleet landed with more decorum and The Holding’s master felt a momentary doubt that they would have sufficient stores to feed all the crews. Then, berating himself for his cautious reaction, he strode over the dunes to greet Arthur as he stepped through the shallows with his usual athletic grace.

  ‘Arthur! You’ve returned at last. Maeve has been demented with worry over you for the past few months. She feared the worst, although she also reminded me constantly that her voice would tell her if anything had happened to you.’

  Arthur and he embraced, so that Stormbringer could feel the young man’s hard muscles and his callused hands.

  ‘I’ve come with men from the northern lands who are eager to travel with me to build a new life in Britain.’ Arthur’s whole face was browned and handsome and he was smiling joyously as he greeted his friend. ‘I have supplies aplenty so we won’t eat you out of home and barn while we’re sampling your hospitality. Come, my friend! I’ve a great desire to see my sister. Have you wedded her yet?’

  ‘She’s wedded, bedded and she’s now the mother of my son and your nephew. He is called Sven Bedwyr, a lad with two names that honour both sides of his lineage. He will be eager to melt your heart, as will Father Lorcan, who has fretted for you during your absence. Gods, Arthur, but you look the very picture of a Dene warrior.’

  It was true. Arthur had filled out a little and he was now so powerful and tall that few warriors would willingly choose to face him in combat. His shape, wide in the shoulders and narrow at the hips, was so perfectly proportioned that the women in the fields stopped their labours to follow him with hungry, appreciative eyes.

  His skin was burnished to bronze, which threw his red-gold hair into prominence, while the changeable eyes, more green than grey, were startling within the setting of his polished face. At almost twenty-six years of age, and clean-shaven, Arthur was at the very peak of his physical prowess.

  Snorri, Gareth and Germanus laboured up the dunes behind the two friends.

  ‘Does Gareth still become seasick?’ Stormbringer asked with a laugh.

  ‘If he did, he would’ve starved when we departed near to three years ago. He suffered an initial bout when we first left, but then began to improve. He thrives on the sea now, although he still burns in the sun, even when the cold is a live thing in the far north. Oh, Valdar, even you would have been impressed by the marvels we saw during our voyages through the north.’

  When he greeted Gareth, Stormbringer immediately saw the changes in the younger man. He was strong and healthy, although his nose was peeling, his skin ruddy brown.

  Germanus, on the other hand, seemed to have cast off any semblance of old age during the voyage, unlike his old friend who had remained behind. His close-shaven skull was smoothly polished and his skin was still ruddy with good health, while his face was covered by a network of fine white lines where the sun had failed to penetrate. But his back was unbowed, his stride was long and powerful and apart from a smattering of age spots and freckles on his skull and his hands, his joints showed none of the encroaching swellings and feebleness of advancing years.

  Stormbringer gripped the sword arms of his friends in greeting, and threw his left arm around Snorri’s shoulders to show his liking and respect. The helmsman was unchanged and, if possible, seemed to be carrying more weight than before.

  ‘Come one, come all. We’ll find beds for some of you, while we’ll set up tents in the large field near the hall. Your crews will be able to rest comfortably and we can share whatever supplies are available.’

  Stormbringer spoke with uncharacteristic vivacity. Arthur smiled a little to see the Sae Dene’s obvious contentment; his little sister had chosen well.

  And so the Last Dragon and his warriors returned to The Holding where joy, good food, singing and dancing would embrace them.

  As if she could read her husband’s mind, Maeve was hard at work erecting tents in the hall field. Here, a bullock had just been killed and a huge spit had been set up over a large fire grate used for special celebrations. Stormbringer swelled with pride at the efficiency of his workforce.

  Good luck seemed to sail with his young friend; the obvious good health of Arthur’s warriors, their energy and their wide, honest smiles spoke of contentment and joy, especially on this momentous day.

  The master’s friend had returned to the fold. And, in an optimistic state, even strong and intelligent men can delude themselves, as Valdar Bjornsen was soon to discover.

  ‘We’ve seen islands of ice that are higher than the hills of Noroway as they sailed by us like ships, while huge expanses of underwater ice that are larger than Heorot and its village float just below the surface of the midnight-blue waters. We were lucky to experience no more than a gentle tap from one of the monsters,’ Arthur said in a hypnotic voic
e that transported his rapt audience to those lands where the sun was still shining at midnight.

  ‘In these lands, the little dark people make homes from ice in the winter and go out in hide canoes to hunt for the seal people. Then, when they kill their quarry, they pray to the souls of the seals, who are their brothers, to grant them forgiveness. Every part of these beautiful animals is used to keep the tribal members alive in their hostile and unforgiving homeland.’

  Maeve’s eyes filled with tears; she had watched on many occasions as these creatures came to the seas near The Holding and played in the shallows with their pups like sleek, black dogs. Arthur smiled to see her compassion.

  ‘Sometimes, these brave men challenge the impossible and paddle their fragile canoes out into deeper waters where they hunt for the great blue whales that are the size of whole villages and are as clever as any man. If the hunters are successful with their sharp harpoons and they manage to pierce the outer skins of the whales, the great fish bleed inside and will eventually weaken and perish. Many men die during the chase and the ensuing kill, but their tribes are greatly enriched by the capture of one of these creatures.’

  ‘Surely it is wrong to kill such great sea dwellers,’ Maeve protested. She had seen some of the huge creatures on her first voyage across the seas; by chance, one of the behemoths had been accompanied by its calf and the sight of mother and child frolicking in the ocean waters had touched Maeve’s soft heart.

  ‘Perhaps hunting a whale might seem to be an unfair contest, Maeve, but the Inuit hunters rarely attack healthy beasts. Even so, many men perish because the waters are so cold that a human being cannot survive in them for even a heartbeat. Most of their village inhabitants are either older men or women and children. Life under the midnight sun can be terrifying for those who live there.’