The jarl looked at me. “He looks like a Viking but why give him a Frankish name? What is wrong with Hrólfr?”
My father shrugged, “I married a Frank. Hrólfr, Rollo, it is the same name and he is the same warrior.” He waved over the ale wife and put down some shiny coins. “Ale for the table.”
Jarl Bjorn shook his head, “Those are fresh minted coins. Why do you need to join this raid?”
“Young men must raid and they need to see other waters rather than their own. We have just fought Breton and Frank for some years. It is time my sons and my men saw Saxons. Who leads us?”
“Halfdan Ragnarsson. He is from Northumbria. He and Guthrum of the East Angles have been waging war against Wessex. He brings ten drekar to this raid.”
“When do we sail?” Two men had begun a fight just outside the alehouse. We heard them being encouraged by other drunken warriors. “The longer we stay here the more chance we have of losing men before we begin.”
“You are right.” Our ale arrived and the ale wife took some of the coins. Jarl Bjorn lifted his horn, “Here’s to Hrólfr the Horseman!”
I raised my horn and drank deeply. It was good ale.
“How is he? He must be getting old.”
“His body might but his mind is still as sharp as ever. He rides each day and is still the arbiter of disputes through the whole land.”
“That is good.” He drank some ale and wiped the foam from his beard. “To answer your question, we are leaving on the morning tide. We sailed a long way to get here and needed supplies. Halfdan is making a longphort in the waters between the Isle of Grain and Canvey.”
“Then we will follow you. We are well supplied and need nothing that they have here.”
We talked of Halfdan and the other leaders. Jarl Bjorn came from the land of Norway and he told us of some of the other men who raided from that harsh land. “There is a clan there that is trying to take over the whole of Norway. We have no king but they would make one. Halfdan the Black is their jarl. If I stayed at home I would end up fighting my own kind. I think I will do as the Horseman did and seek a new land. I hear that there are lands to the north of the islands. I may go there. First I raid and make as much coin from the men of Wessex as I can.” During a pause he gestured with his horn towards me. “Does this giant fight or just row? I see few hairs upon his face.”
I was not insulted. Ragnvald had often mocked me about my lack of beard, telling me to put milk on it so that the cats could lick it off. He had a full beard. My grandfather told me that he had not had his first beard until he had seen seventeen summers.
My father answered for me, “He can fight although he has yet to blood his blade. My father trained him and I have practised against him.” He punched me playfully in the arm, “I would not like to face him across a shield wall.”
The jarl laughed, “If you fought him then you would always be in the shade. I look forward to watching him in a shield wall!”
We headed back to the ship when another fight broke out. This one was settled by Jarl Bjorn grabbing the two drunken warriors by the hair and smashing them together. We left in one large group and made our way to our drekar. Magnús the Fish had kept watch on our ship. Two of the ship’s boys were his sons. They were too young to be of any use to Ragnvald and so they had stayed with their father. Magnús looked pleased to see us, “It has been lively this night. There are Danes and Norse here as well as our men.” He pointed to a pool of blood. “Blood has been spilled. This does not bode well, Jarl.”
My father nodded. I could tell, from his conversation with Jarl Bjorn, that he regretted his decision to raid. I wondered if this was the curse. However, we could not back out now. Our men would have felt it dishonourable. “Aye, Magnús, I think this will be our one foray into these waters. We sail on the morning tide and follow Jarl Bjorn’s ship. Tell the other captains.”
“Aye jarl.”
As we made our way to our cloaks and our chests I saw that most were already on board. The exception was the four led by Ragnvald. My father noticed it. He spread his fur on the deck and said, “Your brother is not back aboard yet. I told him not to stray far. This is a dangerous port.”
I laid my fur next to his and wrapped myself in it before covering it with my seal skin cape. “He will be back, fear not. Loki looks after his own!”
My father laughed, “Aye, your brother is more like Loki just as you are more like Thor! But then you were not cursed. You share the same blood but there the resemblance ends.”
As I curled up and fell into a deep sleep my thoughts were on the curse. I had not known of it until I had stayed with my grandfather. He had told me about it just because it explained his distance from my brother. Since then I had felt more sympathetic towards Ragnvald. It had not been his fault. Our mother had allowed the priest into the birthing room. That had been the start of it.
That night I dreamed. It may have been the strong ale or perhaps it was meeting so many new people. Whatever the reason it was vivid.
I was falling. I tumbled from the top of the mast. I seemed to spin forever. I would surely hit the deck but I did not. I hit the water and I sank into its blackness. I went down and down. I saw skulls and bones. I saw dead men. Rurik One Ear lurched towards me. I saw, in the water, my father’s back, when he turned I saw that his throat was cut and his hands were bloody. I heard the word, ‘Ragnvald’!
I woke.
“Ragnvald!” I opened my eyes and saw my brother, Arne and the others were staggering aboard. They had clattered into sleeping men and woken them. The four were drunk. I heard Harold Strong Arm complain. As I sat up I saw my father rising.
Ragnvald shouted, “Be quiet old man! I am Ragnvald the Breton Slayer, my blood brothers and I do what I like.”
My father had never been violent to us but Ragnvald had stepped over a line. He had insulted one of my father’s hearth weru and he had abused his position. My father brought his hand back and punched Ragnvald so hard that he fell unconscious. He jabbed a finger at Arne and the other two. “Put my son to bed. I will speak with all of you in the morning when you are men again!”
The two younger ones nodded but Arne glared. This was not over.
I slept but fitfully. My dreams were pictures which came and went quickly. They were filled with the sight of my brother’s bloody nose and my father’s grazed knuckles. I knew that this was not a good thing. We woke with a cool feel to the morning. I had been wise to use my seal skin cape for there had been drizzle in the night. I had slept dry. I was one of the first awake. I hauled a pail of sea water and then made water over the side. I plunged my head into the sea water. It woke me. I would not need my mail until we raided and I left it in my sea chest. I stripped and changed into the kyrtle I would use to row. It was a thick and rough material. It also served as an under garment when I wore my mail.
Harold Strong Arm joined me. I knew that I had been given a great honour when I had been chosen as his oar brother. As he rubbed himself dry he said, “Anyone other than the son of the jarl would have died for insulting me. Your brother is a lucky man. Had it been any other than the jarl’s son I would have ended his insults and it would have been with more than a fist. Your father saved your brother’s life.”
“I have never seen my father get so angry, so quickly.”
“He has been patient with your brother. We all have. It is not his fault that he is cursed but a warrior and a man choose their own path.” He put an arm around my back. “I am pleased I have the better brother as an oar and shield brother.”
“I have yet to fight in a shield wall. What if I let you down?”
“You cannot. You have the blood of two heroes coursing through your veins and you are not cursed. Besides, I believe that you are destined to be greater than any of us.”
“Are you Skuld now?”
He laughed, “No, for I still have all my own teeth but you are not only grown tall and wide, you are grown wise. Others your age, on their first raid would
have done as your brother and Arne. They would have swaggered with their swords and got drunk. You did not.”
My father’s voice rang out, “Rise and shine! We leave this cess pit and we go to war! Awake I say!”
There were grumbles but men rose.
Magnús the Fish shouted, “Ship’s boys! Mooring lines.”
I watched as Ragnvald rose. His eyes were already beginning to blacken and the dried blood was still on his face. His nose was broken. It would be forever twisted and disfigured. My father pointed to him and said, “We will put last night behind us but today, you make up for it by leading the boys to work harder than any other crew.”
It was an attempt to make peace but my brother chose to ignore it. He just glared at my father and then shouted, “Ship’s boys to me!”
Then Harold and I had to look to ourselves. We oarsmen went to our oars and picked them up. Harold and I were on the landward side. We would have to fend us off from the wooden quay before we were able to put them through the oar ports. We would have to row until Magnús the Fish found us a wind. With the mooring lines freed we pushed against the wooden quay as Magnús the Fish turned the steering board. The oars which were in the water on the seaward side sculled us around. As soon as we were far enough away Harold and I slipped our oar through its port and prepared to row. We would not use a chant yet. We just had to pull us away from the land. I looked up at the masthead pennant. The wind was against us. We would have to row. I saw my father speaking with Magnús the Fish. He nodded and then cupped his hands to shout to the other drekar. He ordered them to follow us. I could not see him but I knew that Jarl Bjorn was ahead of us and already heading for the longphort.
“Right my lads, let us have Siggi’s song eh? He was a great warrior and his spirit will help us row.” My father knew the right thing to say.
Siggi was the son of a warrior brave
Mothered by a Hibernian slave
In the Northern sun where life is short
His back was strong and his arm was taut
Siggi White Hair warrior true
Siggi White Hair warrior true
When the Danes they came to take his home
He bit the shield and spat white foam
With berserk fury he killed them dead
When their captain fell the others fled
Siggi White Hair warrior true
Siggi White Hair warrior true
After they had gone and he stood alone
He was a rock, a mighty stone
Alone and bloodied after the fight
His hair had changed from black to white
His name was made and his courage sung
Hair of white and a body young
Siggi White Hair warrior true
Siggi White Hair warrior true
With dying breath he saved the clan
He died as he lived like a man
And now reborn to the clan's hersir
Ragnvald Hrolfsson the clan does cheer
Ragnvald Hrolfsson warrior true
Ragnvald Hrolfsson warrior true
Soon we were speeding down the coast. We did not have far to travel. The exercise would exorcise some of the ale from those who had drunk too much. Once we had the rhythm we were able to stop singing. I found some satisfaction in seeing my brother having to work hard. This would be his last voyage as a ship’s boy. He had managed to grow a little and to become broad enough to take an oar. We always had a ready supply of boys but men able to row were rarer. This was a large drekar and needed a large crew. All of the boys who had served with Ragnvald were either dead or were rowing like Arne the Breton Slayer who was two oars behind me. It irked my brother.
“Have you raided the Saxons before, Harold?”
“Aye. It was many years since. We went with your grandfather. The men of Wessex build better burghs than we do but since they became Christian they are not as warrior like. Many have mail. If you face a housecarl then they are the equal of our warriors.” He grinned. “Do not worry you will be behind me. This will be your first shield wall. My fear is that you are a real target for them. You are a head taller than any other. It is a tempting target for a Saxon axe.”
“Grandfather gave me his full-face helmet. He said he would need it no longer. It was made by Dragonheart’s smith Bagsecg.”
“And your mail shirt is a good one but a little shorter than I would have liked.”
It was true, I was so big that my byrnie did not go all the way to my knees. It stopped at my waist. I had been promised a longer one but it took time to make a good byrnie.
A lookout shouted, “Longphort ahead!” We had reached our destination.
It was not long before the order to ship oars was given and we slid next to Jarl Bjorn’s drekar and tied up. Jarl Folki tied up on our other side. There were drekar to our fore. After we had stored our oars Harold and I wandered to the steering board. “How many ships on this raid?”
My father pointed, “There are twelve of us here now and there were six more in Lothuwistoft. I heard there were more ships coming from Denmark. That will be over six hundred men.”
“Will there be enough treasure for us all?”
“Lundenwic is the richest prize on this island. Paris has more treasure but that is harder to take because it is on an island.”
I turned to Harold, “How do you know these things?”
“I spoke to other Vikings who have travelled further than we. Some have been all the way down the Issicauna. It is said that there are some Rus Vikings who sailed all the way to Miklagård. They carried their drekar over mountains.” He laughed. “They must all be giants such as you, Rollo.”
My father laughed too, “I will go and see this Northumbrian jarl, Halfdan. Harold, Snorri, come with me. You have sharp ears and eyes.”
I did not leave the drekar. Instead I took out my mail and began to rub oil on it. This coast was notoriously damp. Once that was done I replaced it in its sack and took out my sword. My sword did not have a name yet. It was a well-made sword but it was no Heart of Ice. I think my grandfather would have given me his sword but he thought it might be unlucky. It had been made especially for him when he had lived in the Land of the Wolf. He had promised it to me when he died. I had said that I hoped I never owned the sword. The sword I had was the same length as the other warriors but, with my long arms, it looked and felt short. My grandfather said I needed a longer sword. He had promised me one.
Father did not return until dark. He had Folki and the other jarls with him. I was close enough to hear their words. “Halfdan is a man of action. We leave this night. Step the masts for we row. Any ship which has not reached us will miss out.” Two more ships had arrived during the afternoon. None of the Danish drekar had arrived. Some of the crew, like Soren Asbjornson said that was a good thing as he did not trust a Dane. The Danes were gathering in the east of the land of the Saxons. There were many bands of them. So far, they had just raided in small groups. Soren foresaw a time when they would band together. It did not worry me. We would make this one raid and then be back in the Land of the Horse.
I had already sharpened my sword and my two seax. I had one inside the bindings of my leggings. Grandfather had told me that they had a habit of slipping out of seal skin boots. The other was tucked in the back of my sword belt. The rest of the crew prepared their weapons. Then we stepped the mast. Once that was done I joined Harold and the others. We were drinking the ale we had bought in Lothuwistoft. We ate the salted cod and dried ham. It sustained us. Ragnvald and his band of crows kept apart from us. Their heads were together and whenever I passed them they were silent. They were plotting. I suspected that they had something unpleasant planned for me when we returned to the Land of the Horse. I had already planned on seeking my father’s permission to move to the Haugr. He would be upset but I had decided I would be a horseman. Nothing I had seen thus far had convinced me that I would enjoy the life of a raider.
I slept until dark. I woke first and roused
Harold. We washed in sea water and then donned our mail. Until we returned to the longphort I would wear it. Leaving the longphort was trickier than joining it. The last ships to join it left first and then we had to wait in the estuary. It was tricky for there were shallows where a drekar could be grounded. We needed the deep channel which led upstream. Halfdan Ragnarsson was leading the raid and his drekar had the honour of rowing first down the tightly twisting Tamese.
There would be no chant. We needed silence. Ragnvald and the ship’s boys would have to be on watch. The last thing we needed was for two of our drekar to become fouled. That would be a disaster. It would take most of the night for us to row upstream. The river had a strong current and our helmsmen had to be careful. My father spent half of his time with Magnús the Fish and the other half at the prow. He was nervous. I knew why. He had normally raided with just those who were the Clan of the Horse. He had raided the coast he knew well. He had been forced to leave the comfort of what he knew best. We had many young men who clamoured for greater treasure than that offered by raiding the Bretons and the Franks. Unless we sailed deep into Frankia the pickings were poor. I knew from his demeanour that he was regretting giving into the younger warriors who had begged for the chance to go on larger raid. Arne the Breton Slayer and my brother had been amongst the most vocal. I think Ragnvald had swayed my father. He always seemed to feel guilty about the rift between them. He had thought this a way to patch things up. He had been wrong. The blow the previous night had broken more than my brother’s nose.
The river had different smells from home. The air felt damper. I could not see what was attractive about this land. There were many noises too. Above the creak of the timbers and rigging and the splash of the oars I could hear animals in the fields adjacent to the water. I could smell wood smoke. What was absent was the sound of an alarm. No bells rang to warn them of the Vikings who were about to arrive in the heart of their land. We had managed to get into their land unseen. Would we escape the same way?
We were facing east, as we rowed, and I saw the sky growing lighter behind us. I was able to make out the river banks which had been hidden in the dark. I saw that the river was narrowing. There were lots of buildings. The smell of smoke as stronger. We were nearing Lundenwic. My father suddenly appeared down the centre of the rowers. “Prepare to ship oars.”
Brothers in Blood (Norman Genesis Book 7) Page 12