Dragons from the Sea

by Judson Roberts

  “While the Franks are divided, they are weak. Already, in recent years, we Danes have tested their defenses and have fattened our purses at their expense. We have sacked their towns of Dorestad, and Ruda, and Quentovic, and Nantes. We have tasted the wealth of the Franks, and have found it ripe for the taking.

  “This spring,” Hastein continued, “we will strike the Franks with more than just raids. We shall carry the fire and steel of war into their heartland. The Franks shall long remember this as the Year of the Danes.”

  My head was spinning, as much from excitement as from the ale I’d drunk. I could not believe my good fortune. We were going to war. What an adventure it would be!

  “King Horik himself will lead one attack against the Franks and their fortress of Hamburg,” Hastein continued. “A second fleet will attack the western kingdom of the Franks. Ragnar Logbrod will lead this second army, and we shall sail with him. We will attack Ruda near the mouth of the Seine River, then sail on up the river, sacking every town, village, and monastery we encounter, until we force the Frankish king to call out his army against us. When he does, we will crush them.”

  Hastein drew his sword and brandished it over his head. “Wealth, honor and glory await us!” he cried.

  All around me, men burst into cheers. Some drew their swords and waved them overhead. I raised my cup and joined in the cheering, too. I was a warrior now. I was a member of Jarl Hastein’s crew. I would follow him to fight our enemy and keep our homeland safe. The dreams of my childhood had come true. I was a Viking.

  6 : Ghosts and Other Spirits

  The next morning we sailed from Sjaelland, as did the other ships that had been beached along the shore below the king’s longhouse. Once beyond the mouth of the bay they scattered. Even our sister ships, the Sea Wolf and the Serpent, set courses that caused them to slowly veer away from us.

  “Where are they all going?” I asked Torvald. We had a fine, brisk wind blowing steadily from the east, so once we’d raised and set the sail my time was my own. I chose to spend it in the stern, where I could talk to Torvald as he steered. Hastein, who was standing nearby, heard my question.

  “Armies do not raise themselves,” he said. “The king gave war arrows to every ship’s captain who attended the council. We each have chieftains to deliver King Horik’s summons to. The king is claiming his scot. He is calling on the Danes to bring their men and ships to war.”

  Because he ruled over the lands surrounding the Limfjord in the north of Jutland, it was Hastein’s lot to carry the king’s summons to the chieftains who lived there. We pressed hard after leaving Sjaelland and covered the first leg of our voyage, to the mouth of the Limfjord, in just over two days. Once upon the fjord, however, our pace slowed greatly. We stopped at every village and every chieftain’s longhouse we passed, and Hastein went ashore carrying the symbol of war, a single arrow painted red from feathers to tip.

  A king’s summons, it seemed, could not be delivered quickly. There were formalities to be observed. At each stop, we would lower the Gull’s sail and, after hanging a shield below the dragon’s head on the prow as a sign we came in peace, row in to the shore. Hastein, dressed in polished helm and mail brynie, and accompanied by Torvald, Tore, and a handful of other warriors from the crew, all wearing full armor, save for their shields, would march down the gangplank, to be met ashore by the local dignitary we were calling on. Speeches would be exchanged. I, who like most of the Gull’s crew was left on board the ship, could not hear them. They were usually long, though, and must have been thirsty work, for invariably at their end the chieftain or village headman would call for ale. Several times they even insisted on holding a feast. Such hospitality, once offered, could not graciously be declined. It made for a slow journey.

  It was an uncomfortable time for me. I had passed this way only weeks earlier with my brother, Harald, and a handful of his men. That journey had led to Harald’s death. Each day, I saw landmarks along the shore that I recognized. Invariably they stirred up painful memories. Someday, perhaps, I would welcome seeing Harald’s face again with my mind’s eye, and would remember our good times together with pleasure. Not now, though. My loss was too recent, and the pain still too fresh.

  One afternoon, the wind died and we had to row the ship. I was glad for the diversion. I let my mind wrap itself around the simple task of moving the big oar back and forth, and lost my thoughts in feeling the muscles of my back and shoulders straining to pull it through the weight of the sea.

  I realized suddenly that Hastein, who had relieved Torvald at the steering oar, was staring at me. When my eyes met his, he turned and looked toward the shore. I turned my head, and looked where Hastein was gazing.

  The jarl had steered the Gull close to the southern shore of the fjord. We were passing a small cove. A massive slab of stone, jutting from the water like a great gate post, formed one side of the entrance to the sheltered inlet. Beyond, the shore was lined with a sandy beach, bisected by a narrow stream that emptied into the cove. I knew this place. A small longhouse had once overlooked the water here. A long, low earthen mound, still too fresh for any growth to have taken root, now marked the spot where it had stood.

  “Mind what you are doing!”

  Tore’s voice, tense with anger, roused me. I had stopped rowing, and was holding my oar straight out over the water. Tears were flowing down my cheeks. I had no way to wipe them. The oar demanded my hands and my attention. I ducked my head, hoping no one would see, and resumed rowing.

  My hope was in vain. Once I regained my rhythm and my composure, I glanced up. Hastein was watching me closely. Torvald, standing beside him, was also staring at me. Even Odd, rowing opposite me, was looking at me, surprise evident on his face. At least Tore’s back was to me, so he could not have seen, but I had no doubt that Odd would tell him I had been weeping as we rowed.

  The sun had not moved much farther across the sky by the time we came to our next stop. While Hastein and his guard donned their armor, a crowd of villagers gathered on the shore. They parted to let an old man pass through to the front. He had a long, thick gray beard and was carrying a pitchfork, as though he’d come straight from the byre or the fields. He stopped when he saw the ship, and a smile creased his face.

  “Jarl Hastein,” he cried. “Welcome. It has been too long since you have graced our village with your company.”

  I had seen the old man once before, though only from a distance. It was Hrodgar, the village headman who had sent men to help Toke hunt me.

  Hastein and Hrodgar seemed to know each other well. They embraced when Hastein stepped from the gangplank onto the shore, and Hastein dispensed with the formal speech he’d given at our earlier stops. Instead, he and Hrodgar walked back to the village side by side, talking and laughing, trailed by the townsfolk and Hastein’s small guard of warriors.

  “The jarl and old Hrodgar have long been friends.” Odd had walked over to where I sat on my sea chest, watching the retreating crowd.

  “Hrodgar was one of the first to swear allegiance to Hastein after his father died,” Odd continued. “He and the men of this village fought for Hastein in the troubles that followed. Though an old man, he is no bench decoration, afraid to go to war. He is a brave warrior and a loyal friend. Do you know him?”

  I shook my head.

  “Are you from these parts? Do you have people in this district?”

  What you really want to ask, I thought, is why was I weeping earlier.

  “Some of my folk once lived not far from here,” I answered. “But no more.”

  My answer was true, but it left much unsaid. The grave-mounds of my father’s brother and father, and of his father’s father lay not far from here. And beneath the new mound we had passed were the ashes of my brother, Harald, and his men.

  I pulled a cloak from my sea chest, wrapped it around myself, and lay down on the deck.

  “No doubt the jarl will be here long, if he visits with an old friend,” I said. “I think I w
ill use this time to sleep.” I pulled the cloak over my head, and willed Odd to go away and leave me in peace. He was kind enough to do so.

  I awakened with a start. Someone’s foot was nudging my back.

  “Wake up!”

  I pulled the cloak from my head. The bright sunlight blinded my eyes and made them water. Tore was standing above me. Beyond him, I could make out the indistinct form of another man.

  “The jarl sent me to fetch you,” Tore said.

  The man behind him stepped forward and kneeled down, grasping my shoulders with his hands. “By the Gods,” he exclaimed, “It is you!”

  “Do you know this boy?” Tore demanded.

  “I know this warrior,” the man replied. “Do not be deceived by his years. He is a true wolf-feeder. I would be proud to fight by his side any day.”

  “Einar?” I asked, my mind still fogged from sleep.

  “Aye, lad,” he replied, “It is me, and surprised I am to see you so soon again, and in such fine company. You have done well. You serve the jarl himself now. Well met! Well met indeed!”

  It was a shock to see Einar, but a pleasant one. Though I hardly knew him, Einar had fought for me. He was probably the closest thing to a true comrade—someone I knew would stand beside me, no matter what—I had. I held out my arm to clasp wrists with him, but he pulled me into his arms and embraced me. “Well met,” he said again.

  I stowed my cloak in my sea chest, then turned to Tore. “Do I need to wear my armor?” I asked. Hastein, Tore and the rest of the men had armed themselves before going ashore. It was just for show, I knew, but I did not want to spoil the effect Hastein desired to create.

  Tore shook his head. “No,” he said. “Just come with me.”

  Einar walked with us. He was, as ever, talkative.

  “I told Hrodgar about you, of course, when I returned to the village,” he said. “I knew there was a strong chance your fate might never lead you back this way again, but I felt it important that he know the truth of what had happened. Of all that happened,” he added, then winked at me several times, and nudged me with his elbow. Tore stared at us curiously, but said nothing.

  I appreciated Einar not actually mentioning Toke’s treachery, and the murder of Harald and the others, in front of Tore. I would have appreciated it more, though, had he not made it so obvious there was a secret he was keeping—one that involved me.

  There were nine longhouses in the village. We went to the largest. Inside, Hrodgar was seated at a table positioned close to the fire burning in the central hearth. Hastein sat with him, in the place of honor to Hrodgar’s right. Torvald and the rest of Hastein’s men lounged on the benches along the side walls, drinking ale and talking with men from the village.

  We stopped in front of the table. “Here is Halfdan, my jarl,” Tore announced, unnecessarily.

  “So this is the one who killed my hounds,” Hrodgar said. It did not seem a promising greeting. I could tell it aroused Tore’s interest, though, from the look on his face.

  Hastein nodded to Tore. “Thank you,” he said. “You can leave us now.” Tore’s disappointment was visible, but he turned and walked away.

  “Jarl Hastein has been asking me about the attack on Hrorik’s farm,” Hrodgar continued. “I have told him what I observed, and what Toke said had happened. He also asked to see Einar here and speak with him. The jarl has told us how he met you, and of your tale.”

  Hrodgar stared at me silently for some time, his wrinkled face expressionless, masking his thoughts. Then he shook his head and sighed.

  “I confess I do not see much of Hrorik’s looks in you,” he said. “But your face, your eyes in particular, do remind me of your mother. I remember when Hrorik brought her back here from Ireland. She was a beautiful woman. It did not surprise me that he was much taken with her. Nor did it surprise me that she came to be with child.”

  Hrodgar sighed again. “At least Hrorik’s line is not ended,” he said. “It was niddingsvaark that was done that night. Fell deeds and foul. And none would ever have known, had you not escaped. Toke was clever. The face of a kinsman gave him good cover to hide his lies and treachery. He has a heavy blood-debt to pay.”

  When Hrodgar spoke those last words, I felt a surge of relief. Not until then could I tell whether he still believed Toke’s lies.

  “I have sworn to see him pay it,” I replied.

  “Perhaps some day you will. Einar tells me you are a warrior to be reckoned with, and Hastein says you are the finest shot with a bow he has ever seen. That is high praise. I would like to see you shoot someday. I suspect I shall have the opportunity. The men of our village own a small ship. We use it mostly for trade, but we will send it filled with warriors to answer the king’s summons. I have decided that I will lead them myself.”

  A woman, neither young nor old, had stepped to the table with a pitcher of ale, and was refilling Hrodgar’s and Hastein’s cups.

  “Father,” she exclaimed. “You are too old to go to war.”

  “You are right, daughter, about one thing. I am old, and I am danger of becoming too old. Only fools shun risk in the hope of a long life, for there are worse things than death on the spears. Old age shows men no mercy. I have outlived two wives and a son, and my bones ache now every morning when I rise like they once did only after a hard day’s work in the fields. I do not desire to die in my bed, too weak to care for myself. I am a man, and if I die like one, I will not regret it. Now bring this warrior a cup, too, for no doubt he is thirsty,” he said, waving his hand at me. “Come, Halfdan,” he added. “Sit with me and quench your thirst. I would talk with the son of my old friend Hrorik Strong-Axe.”

  Hrodgar did me great honor by asking me to join him and Hastein at his table. At one point, I glanced across the hall and saw Tore standing beyond the hearth, staring intently at me. It is a good thing a man cannot burst from curiosity. Were it possible, Tore would surely have been at risk.

  Within a week after we reached Hastein’s estate on the Limfjord, other ships began arriving. Soon the shoreline of the fjord was lined with longships, and the land beyond teemed with warriors. I had never seen so many folk together in one place before, not even at Hedeby.

  The captains and their men quickly became impatient to set off for Frankia. The king had forbidden strandhogg on Danish lands, so the army was forced to buy its provisions while it waited, rather than stealing cattle and other fare from the surrounding villages and farms. Though at first Hastein was pleased at the opportunity for profit while the army mustered at his estate, before long he became alarmed at how rapidly his herds were being depleted.

  “An army is like a dragon,” he complained. “It is big and dangerous, and eats all the time.”

  Every day, men were sent into the forests, hunting game to help feed the warriors. And each day, I was among those sent. Because of his skill with a bow, Tore was also among those chosen to hunt. However, Tore’s skills apparently did not include those of a woodsman. It gave me secret pleasure to see how often he returned from the forest empty handed. I made sure he noticed that I always brought in a kill.

  By the time a month had passed since the king’s council, more than eighty ships had arrived at Hastein’s estate. The black-painted longship of Ragnar Logbrod, the Raven, was among them, and Torvald told me that Ragnar’s sons Ivar the Boneless and Bjorn Ironsides had also joined the fleet. The ship from the village, captained by Hrodgar, arrived, too, and I was pleased to learn that Einar was among her crew.

  “There is news you should know,” Einar told me. “Four days after Jarl Hastein visited our village, three warriors rode in from the south. They were sent by Toke to learn what had happened to the men he’d ordered to find and kill you. Hrodgar told them Toke’s warriors had been killed in an ambush by the outlaw they had hunted. He did not reveal that he had learned of Toke’s treachery, but the three did not seem satisfied by his account. It was clear they found it suspicious that both Kar and I survived, and only Toke’s men h
ad died.”

  “So Toke knows I am alive,” I said.

  “Aye. I think it is a good thing we will leave for Frankia soon. Toke has too much to lose if his treachery becomes known. He has no choice but to hunt you down and kill you.”

  Einar’s words made me realize that during recent weeks, in my excitement at my new life and the prospect of war, I had pushed thoughts of avenging Harald’s death to the back of my mind. I was ashamed. I felt disloyal to Harald and the others who had died with him. More than anything, though, I was afraid. In my heart I could not deny that I was no match for Toke. And now he knew I still lived, and would be hunting me again. How long would it take him to pick up my trail? I wondered if any of the villagers had told Toke’s men of the youth who sailed with Hastein’s crew, and who had been greeted so warmly by Hrodgar.

  That night I dreamed of Toke. We were in the forest and he was chasing me. No matter how fast I ran, always he kept drawing nearer. Then suddenly he was upon me, raising his sword—Harald’s sword, Biter—to strike. I turned and tried to shoot him, but as I drew my arrow back he swung the sword and cut my bow through, the wood parting with a loud crack at the blow.

  I awoke with a start and sat up. I was not in the forest. I was in Hastein’s great longhouse. All around me, on the side benches and on the floor, men snored peacefully, wrapped in their cloaks. A thrall was standing at the main hearth, breaking branches and throwing them on the fire, which had burned low.

  The rest of the night, every time I closed my eyes I saw Toke’s leering visage in my mind. I knew I was not yet ready to face him. There was no way I could best Toke.

  That night I foolishly let my fear rule me. But my long night of sleepless brooding made me no safer from Toke; it merely made me tired. And when daylight came, I learned that, for a while at least, I need not fear Toke finding me.