“After them!”
We could afford to chase them a short way. If we could capture one then we might discover more about the leaders of the men of this land. My father liked to know his enemy. Allfather’s Gift was no longer a young horse. Others raced ahead of me. I saw Bergil Svensson lead the chase. He swung his blade and it bit into the back of a Frank who wore no mail. He tumbled from his horse. A second turned to see how close we were and in that moment of inattention, his horse found a rabbit hole and threw the rider.
“Hold. Save your horses.” I had reached the warrior slain by Bergil. His shield was green with a red diagonal line across it. These were not the men of Lord Salomon. Karl appeared behind me. “Take his weapons and his horse.” Karl dismounted to search him and I headed for the rider who had fallen.
Bergil had dismounted and he looked up, “Jarl, he is badly hurt. He will die. Should I give him the warrior’s death?”
I dismounted. “He is a Christian. He may not wish that.” I knelt and saw that this was a youth. He had barely begun to shave. He opened his eyes and stared fearfully at me. I took off my helmet and I smiled. “You are hurt, young Frank. I fear you are to die. Would you have us end your life?”
He winced as pain coursed through his body. “I cannot move.”
I nodded, “Your back is broken. You may live for some time but death is coming.”
“I cannot die without confession.”
“I am no priest.”
He tried to move his hands but could not. “Put my cross in my hand, I beg you.”
I took the cross from around his neck. It was a well-carved wooden one. I placed it in his hand. He closed his eyes and mumbled a litany of some kind. I guessed he was confessing his sins. I slipped my seax into my left hand. He opened his eyes. “Do you wish your sword in your hand?”
He said, “No.” he seemed to see me for the first time. “You are a Viking, a pagan!” His eyes widened. “We thought you were the men of Lord Salomon. We came to ask what you were doing in our lands.”
“Our lands?”
“Count Louis rules the lands around Caen and west.” He winced. “I beg you barbarian end my life now. I am …”
I plunged my seax into the vein in his neck. Warm blood gushed and he died. “Go to your God young warrior. Today the Norns cut your thread. Today was your time.”
We took the two horses and the two Frank’s weapons back to Coutances. We did not see any other riders. I was silent as we rode. Harold asked, “What is bothering you, jarl?”
I smiled, “Nothing Harold. I am taking in what I learned from that young warrior. There is a lord who is greater than Lord Salomon; a Count Louis. I am guessing there must be some sort of dispute between them. They thought we were Lord Salomon’s men. Perhaps, and here I am just guessing, Lord Salomon is trying to enlarge his own lands. Joining with the Bretons might not be just a way of defending against us. This is the first time in years that we have ventured south. The alliance may not be against us but against Count Louis.”
There was much I did not know about my enemies. We had stayed behind our walls and used the sea to raid far and wide. King Charles the Bald ruled Frankia. That was all that I knew. Were there divisions in that land? If there was a rift then we might be able to exploit it.
We reached our new walls safely. Folki and Rollo One Ear were keen to discover what had happened. I told them that night as we ate. “We should have taken a prisoner. I know there is a Duke of the Bretons. He fights with the King of Frankia. This Lord Salomon, who is he?” I looked at Lord Bertrand.
“I have never heard the name. I know that there were lords who ruled this land from Caen. Count Louis sounds like a Frank. To be truthful, Ragnvald, this Salomon sounds like a Breton name.”
“Yet he rules a Frankish town.”
Bertrand shrugged. “Franks and Bretons are not like Vikings. The royal families marry their children to gain thrones. This Salomon may have a Breton father but he could have married someone who is of royal blood, Frank blood.”
Harold was a simple warrior, “It does not affect us, jarl.”
“It may do. We ride tomorrow but I intend to close with the walls of Saint-Lô. We have taken much already. Tomorrow we stay together and see if this Lord Salomon comes to fight us or not. Then we burn this town and head home.”
Folki looked disappointed. “I have yet to wet my blade.”
“We are not yet home.”
I rode Dawn’s Light as we headed towards Saint-Lô. Erik’s scouts rode back, when we were just a mile from Coutances. “Jarl, an army comes. They have the bird on the yellow shield.”
“Lord Salomon!” I looked around for any sign of somewhere we could use for ambush. “Ride back to Jarl Folki and tell him that our enemy comes.” I took out my sword and pointed up to a stand of trees on a small rise. “Up there.”
We would be a hundred paces from the road but, more importantly, there would be dead ground behind the trees. We would be hidden. If this Frank was coming to retake his town then I had the choice of attacking him now or letting him close with our men and catching him between our walls and us. We reached the woods and I dismounted and, with Lord Bertrand, crept back to the woods where we could watch Lord Salomon.
I saw the army. It was made up largely of men on foot. There were a few mailed horsemen but also many other mounted men who appeared to be armed with throwing javelins. There were too many for us to attack. The horsemen flanked the marching men on foot. I decided to watch and to wait. There was no baggage. The rear was guarded by another twenty mailed horsemen. They bore the sign of Lord Salomon. When they had gone we returned to our waiting men.
“What do we do, jarl?”
“We let them attack Coutances. When they have surrounded it, and begin to assault their gates, then we attack.”
Lord Bertrand had a good mind for war, “Those were Breton horsemen who carried the javelins, Ragnvald. They are clever warriors. They ride close and throw their javelins. They ride off before you can close with them. When I was young I saw them in action. My father feared them.”
I nodded, “Then we try to kill them before they can kill us.” We mounted and rode parallel to the road. I was silent as I tried to work out what was happening. The world was a wider place than our little peninsula. We knew little of Frankia and Brittany and even less about the lands of the Saxons to the north of us. I needed to leave my home and find out more.
Our foes reached Coutances not long after the sun had reached its zenith. Once again, we found woods to the north of the town and waited there. I saw that Folki and Rollo One Ear had lined the walls with our men. I watched arrows flying from the walls. Their horsemen dismounted. Bertrand was with me again. “We wait until they commit to an attack on the walls and we charge them. If their Bretons are on foot then they are not a threat. Have your light horse drive off their horses and we will try to get to their lord.”
“A bold move.”
“Sometimes a single bold move can achieve victory. I waved my arm around them all. “When you hear me order you to fall back then do so!” I mounted my horse and said to Karl. “I need you to watch my back. The standard flies over the walls. Today you can use your shield and your sword.”
I waited and I watched. They had concentrated all of their forces on the east gate. Had we wanted to we could have entered the town through either the west or the north gate. The Franks and the Bretons had some crossbows. They began to use them against the men on the walls. They were supported by warriors who hurled javelins and others who used slingshots. The archers behind the walls dealt with them. Then I saw them preparing men to march behind shields. They had larger shields and managed to get a little closer to the walls and then they found the caltrops my men had sown. In the confusion my archers slew more of the enemy. I began to wonder if we would be needed to charge at all. The Franks and Bretons withdrew. A heated debate ensued. A horn sounded and they moved forward again.
This time they followed the same pa
th but went more slowly. Bodies lay over the caltrops and the ones which remained could be avoided. When they reached the ditch and the bridge they did not descend into the ditch. Instead they used the large shields as bridges and a line of eighty men crossed to the walls. I saw that they had axes and logs. They began to batter the walls. Another eighty men waited to follow across when they had breached our walls. Now was our time.
I turned and raised my sword. “Now is the time of the Clan of the Horse!” I dug my heels in and led my men down the almost imperceptible slope. Behind me my mailed warriors thundered. I saw Erik lead the lightly armed men for the horse herd which was grazing a mile from the main camp. Our hooves alerted the enemy. Lord Salomon or one of his lieutenants quickly turned their eighty men and the rest of their army to face us. It meant those attacking the walls were without support. It takes time to turn a line of warriors from east to north and we were approaching rapidly. They were not locked when we hit them.
Dawn’s Light struck the shield of one Frank as I swept my sword across the head of a second. I raised my sword and brought it down onto the head of a third. Frankish horns sounded. I saw mailed men running towards their horses. Their horses were already being driven away, their horse guards, dead. Our attack had been so speed and our impact so great that we were through them and I began to wheel around.
I discovered then that the horns had been sounded to bring the while army back to their lord. I held up my sword, “Reform!”
There were empty saddles, eight of them. Some of my warriors had suffered wounds. We still had ninety mounted men. Then I saw that the Franks and the Bretons had formed a triple circle of warriors around their lords. I recognised the third rank as the javelin men I had been told about.
“Do we charge again, jarl?”
I turned to Soren, “I think not, Soren. They have two ranks of spears and they are backed by javelins. We would not break through.”
Bertrand pointed to the walls. “Folki could bring the men from the town. They have archers.”
I said nothing but I waited. I had intended to make this raid to clear the way for our attack at Tvímánuður. We had not lost many men. If we attacked this band then I would expect to lose at least a third of my men and for what? Even if we destroyed them we could not take Saint-Lô. That had ramparts and would require a siege.
It was strange. There were three groups of warriors and we all waited. The deadlock was broken when, after a debate amongst the Franks and Bretons, two figures left their ranks and walked towards us. One was a priest and the other was a boy with neither helmet nor shield. I dismounted. “Lord Bertrand, it seems they wish to speak with us.”
We took off our helmets and walked down to meet them. The youth, for I could now see that he was older than a boy, spoke first, “I am Wigo, son of Lord Salomon. My father wishes to speak with you.”
I nodded, “And he sends a priest and a child in case I wish to continue to fight. He must not value you.”
Wigo flushed but the priest said, “It is known than some of the Northmen married Christian women. The king thought that this might be greeted with less violence than if he came.”
“Tell him that I will speak with him and he is safe so long as my helmet is with my horse.” Wigo ran back to his father. “A brave boy.”
The priest nodded, “He is. He said he was not afraid of a barbarian.”
I gestured to Bertrand. “You know that Lord Bertrand is a Frank and a Christian. He might be insulted by the title you afford him.”
The priest’s eyes turned cold. “Then he is worse than a barbarian! You are a pagan and know not the error of your ways but for a Christian to fight for one is beyond the pale!”
I turned to see if Lord Bertrand was angry. He smiled, “Cluck in your own barnyard, priest! I am happy with the choices I have made. My lord here has more nobility than any Frank I have met.”
Lord Salomon and his son reached us. He nodded and said, “You know who I am but who are you? I know you are Viking but you barbarians all look the same to me. What do you want in our land?”
“I am Ragnvald son of Hrolf the Horseman of the Haugr.” I saw from his eyes that he recognised my father’s name. “As for what I am doing here? I am finishing what we started when we drove the Franks from Carentan. The Bretons took what we had captured. I am reclaiming it.”
“This land was Breton before the Franks took it.”
“You are not a Frank?”
“I am the cousin of Erispoe, Duke of Brittany.”
“Yet Saint-Lô is ruled by King Charles.”
He said nothing but smiled. I allowed the silence to stretch a little. He broke it. “What happens now, Viking? Do you bring your men from Coutances and we fight to the death?”
“My men would like nothing more. We have your horses and you have no baggage. When you came here what thought you? Did you believe we would simply ride away?”
The priest said, “You did the last time.”
“And perhaps now we stay.”
“You could be our allies.” King Charles has great faith in me. One day I shall be King of Brittany. If you are my ally I may allow your people to keep their homes.”
I laughed, “I am sorry but I trust not a Frank and a Breton even less. As for letting us live in our homes… your bones would mark your passage home if ever you tried.”
I could see that my laughter had offended him. He coloured. “Then what will it cost to send you home?”
“We keep your horses and you pay us a thousand gold pieces each year. If you do so then I promise that the land around Saint-Lô, for twenty miles in every direction, will not be raided by my clan.”
The priest snorted, “A thousand gold pieces? You could build a cathedral for that.”
“True, priest, but would we allow you to do that?”
The Breton was beaten. His shoulders slumped, “Very well. We agree. Will you leave now?”
I laughed, “Do you think me a fool? Your son and the priest will be hostages until the first payment is made. The second will be on exactly the same date next year. If not then we put Saint-Lô to the sword.”
Lord Salomon looked at his son. He put his arm around his shoulder, “Fear not, Wigo. You will have just a short time to endure the stink of a barbarian. The gold will soon be sent.”
“One more insult and the price will go up!”
Lord Salomon nodded and headed back to his men. I said, over my shoulder, “Karl go and fetch a couple of horses for these two guests. We have plenty to choose from!”
Chapter 6
Folki was unhappy that they had not had the chance to fight the Franks and the Bretons. “Think of Cancale. You have a quarter share of the gold. You and your men will be rich. When we raid at Tvímánuður you will have all the fighting you wish and even more treasure.”
“But this means I cannot raid south of my walls!”
“I do not think that they will pay us next year. I will keep my word but they will renege on the payment.”
Taking everything of value and after burning the walls and the houses of Coutances, we headed home. I rode with the young Breton lord and the priest. They assiduously avoided speaking with me. That did not worry me. With only thirty miles to travel and plenty of spare horses, we reached home in one day. Folki and Rollo One Ear stayed one night so that we could share our bounty. They felt guilty having done less work than the horsemen.
“Your presence meant we did not have to fight. When the ransom arrives, I will send your share.”
Mathilde was happy to have a priest in the hall but less so to have a Breton. Her family had suffered at the hands of the Bretons. I summoned Ragnvald. “I would have you and Arne keep our guest away from your mother. She does not like his presence. Treat him well. He is surety against the ransom we will receive.”
He seemed quite happy about the task and he led Wigo, who looked to be just two or three years older than he was, away. His absence from my hall made my life easier and I had less to
worry about. When Gilles’ sons and Lord Bertrand left us my hall and my walls felt empty. I felt alone when I was with my son and my wife. I missed Rollo. I forced myself into action.
I visited Harold my shipwright. “Will she be ready to raid in Tvímánuður?”
“She could raid tomorrow. Those two voyages did not harm her at all. She is a young ship. You can push her more than you do.” Harold was an old-fashioned Viking. He been brought up by Harold Fast Sailing and trained by Sven the Helmsman. He knew his business.
“And who shall captain her? I will be on my horse. I need someone to sail my drekar. I have others to lead my men.”
He stroked the sheerstrake of the drekar and then looked up at the mast. I knew what he was doing. He was running through the warriors who might be able to handle such a large drekar. “When we came here from the Haugr there was a young man who helped Harold Fast Sailing; Magnús the Fish.”
I nodded. He had been so named for his skill in swimming. When Harold Fast Sailing needed work below the waterline then Magnús took on the task. “I remember him.”
“He did not like to live at the Haugr without Harold and Sven. He came with his young wife and son here a year since. He has a fishing boat and he catches fish now.”
“He has not taken an oar?”
“No, jarl. He is no warrior but he knows how to sail. He was a ship’s boy and served with Harold. I know that Harold Fast Sailing thought well of him.”
I had learned, from my father, to trust the men who served me. “Then let us visit with him.”
He was four hundred paces off shore. He had baskets at the bottom of the sea for crabs and lobsters. Harold waved and when Magnús saw us he waved back. He hoisted his small sail and was soon at the beach and jumping ashore.
“Jarl, this is an honour.” He pointed to the blue crustaceans in his boat. “Do you wish a lobster?”
Brothers in Blood (Norman Genesis Book 7) Page 9