To Save a Kingdom

by Marianne Whiting

  Only some furlongs to the south of the town, we stopped on an area of flat land with the river running through marshland to our left. There we waited for King Edmund and his army.

  ‘This is the worst part of a fight,’ Varg explained to Unn and Hildur. ‘The time before you know what your enemy looks like.’

  ‘Can you see Sone Ivarson anywhere?’ I whispered to Anlaf.

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘but he wouldn’t dare.’ He knew what I meant. It was not unknown for personal grudges to be settled in the confusion of battle. I kept looking round. I wanted to know where Sone was. I didn’t see him; instead, my eyes met those of Eirik Mordson. He grinned and saluted. That friendly gesture freed my mind of other worries and I was filled with the familiar mixture of fear and excitement. The noise from berserkers and Wulfhednar ringing in my ears, I could almost taste blood on my lips. I touched the hilt of my sword. Dragonclaw sat eager and ready in her scabbard, my helmet was firm on my head and my hair hung loose over my shoulders. My warriors did me proud. Thorfinn and Varg joked and made the girls laugh; nervous laughter, too high, too eager but good in the face of danger. Anlaf looked calm, giving his axe a final polish. They were now all tried in battle and the youngsters had proved their courage. We lined up in the second row with our long spears ready to thrust them at the enemy over, under and between the overlapping shields in the shieldwall. We were ready.

  Soon, Edmund’s forces came into view. They stopped and dismounted. So far they were fewer than us but it was impossible to see how many more followed. Edmund’s banner, a cross surrounded by flames, was held aloft and his army began walking towards us. We hammered with our swords and axes against our shields. Once we judged them within earshot the shouting started.

  ‘You all belong to Odin. You all belong to Odin.’

  ‘Forward, forward, forward. Strike, strike, strike.’

  Then our arrows swished through the air and began to hit home. The enemy advanced at a pace but had to slow down when their comrades fell and blocked their way. We threw our short spears and got the same in return. The first warriors on our side fell. Edmund’s men began taunting us to come and meet them. The Wulfhednar became uncontrollable. A small group of them loped away from the wall and ran towards Edmund’s forces.

  ‘Close the gap. Stay in the wall.’ The cry went up but not many heard it and fewer still heeded it. We knew we shouldn’t follow the Wulfhednar but we did. It was exciting. We thought our numbers superior. We thought we were invincible. Our shield wall broke up and we stormed towards Edmund’s army, roaring our thirst for blood and victory.

  All else forgotten but my enemy and myself. No mercy, no quarter. Kill or be killed. It was easy to begin with. We were rested, they had marched for many hours. We closed for single combat, each trying to seek out an adversary inferior to themselves. A lanky youngster made for me with his axe. I ducked, sidestepped and Dragonclaw found the edge of his jerkin below his raised arm. He didn’t have time to register anything more than surprise.

  ‘Use a shield, ærsling.’ I muttered, pulled out Dragonclaw and looked round for the next attacker. An older warrior had seen me kill the youngster and ran towards me, wild-eyed, roaring his anger and grief. I took my stance, feet firmly on the ground, knees slightly bent. He rushed without thought or plan and it took him by surprise when I swerved and pushed Dragonclaw into his unprotected side.

  To one side, I glimpsed Eirik Mordson stumble and take a sword in the neck. His killer saw me and with the blood of Eirik Mordson splattered across his shield, came slowly and deliberately towards me. I had time to take a deep breath, aware that it could easily be my last. He was not much taller than me but stocky and his muscular arms were heavy with rings gained in battle. We locked eyes. He smiled.

  ‘I shall enjoy this,’ he said. ‘I always wanted to know what a woman looks like inside.’ We circled. He was a talker. I knew better than to listen. Odd words filtered through, rough, obscene language. I had to concentrate to shut it out and find a weak spot to attack. I didn’t think he wore leg irons but I couldn’t get close enough to guide Dragonclaw under his shield and sword. He tried a straightforward hit on my shield. I angled it and his sword slid off. But he kept his balance and his shield stayed in place. Around us the fighting flowed back and forth. Someone, probably Anlaf or Ylva, was behind me fighting their own battle but at the same time guarding my back. I thought I saw an opening. A body lay behind my adversary. If I could make him take a step back. But no.

  I had to find a way. No, no, remember: there’s no hurry, your worst enemy is your own impatience. That’s what my father used to say. I settled. His sword hacked at my shield. I went with the weight of the blow and danced aside. Dragonclaw found his shield-arm, a sharp crack as she bit into the elbow. He bellowed in anger, dropped the shield and swung round after me. But I was already behind him and the edge of my sword cut the side of his throat. His blood coloured the field red but I knew better than to stand and watch. A new enemy approached and then another and another.

  ***

  How long does a battle last? There’s no way of telling. Time is suspended and only when daylight fades do you know it’s over. We fought well. We thought we were winning. But our advantage was short-lived. Edmund’s army was joined by fresh forces. They spread out across the fields. In danger of being surrounded, we retreated. To begin with, step by step in single combat, sending many a brave warrior from Edmund’s hird to Valhalla, heaven or hell. Then, as they proved too many, we ran in unseemly chaos to take refuge within the town walls. As I crossed the bridge to the west gate I tried to look across the river to the meadows above the marshy ground where we had left our horses and, with the horses, Kveldulf.

  ***

  My hird assembled in front of the cathedral. Some quiet and dejected, others angry – all tired.

  ‘A disgrace,’ bellowed Thorfinn, still fired up. ‘What kind of king runs like a hare from battle?’

  ‘Shameful.’ Varg nodded in agreement, rubbing his bad hip.

  ‘Never seen the like of it,’ said Thorfinn. I decided not to remind him that we’d all either run away or got killed at Brunnanburgh. Hildur comforted Unn who cried in shame, thinking the defeat was due to her lack of courage. Ylva nursed a cut to her thigh.

  ‘Just a graze,’ she said when I wanted to look at it.

  ‘That’s the spirit, my girl,’ said Varg, ‘if only they’d all been like you and me ...’

  ‘We’d all be dead,’ said Anlaf. ‘Sometimes you have to run and save yourself for the next battle.’

  ‘Well spoken, young man.’ The Archbishop stepped out of the shadows. ‘No, no stay where you are. You’ve all earned a rest. But I fear I do need a word with your ... hrrm ... chieftain, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter.’

  I scrambled to my feet, my heart thumping and my breath catching in my throat. I knew before he said anything.

  ‘Kveldulf, my son, my child! Where is he?’

  ‘It’s a complicated situation, I’m afraid. Maybe you could come with me and we shall require the presence of your two fostrings as well.’ He had not finished before my oath-sworn were on their feet. ‘No, no,’ said Wulfstan,’ there’s no need for you all.’

  ‘Where our chieftain goes, we follow,’ said Varg. Thorfinn rumbled agreement and the rest nodded. The Archbishop sighed and turned to lead the way.

  ***

  He led us to the large hall next to the Cathedral. I was invited to enter with Unn and Hildur. The others had to wait outside. The hall was arranged as a formal hearing of the Thing, twelve free men of property seated on three sides of a square. On the fourth side a place for the Law Speaker. I thought we had been called to answer for the death of Sone Ivarson’s son. But why had Wulfstan come to summon me in person? What did his comment about a complicated situation mean? Where was Kveldulf? I looked around for familiar faces. Nobody met my eye. Nobody spoke. My stomach tightened. I clasped my Mjölnir-amulet. Were the gods making sport with my destiny? Were they offended by Wu
lfstan’s presence as our leader? But I was here fighting for a Norse King, defending our Norse law. My thoughts crammed my head until it felt fit to burst.

  The silence was broken by Wulfstan.

  ‘What is the correct procedure in the absence of the Law Speaker?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think this can be postponed until the next regular gathering of your local Thing. Mord, of course, is not here. The two who stand to replace him are also absent as they thought themselves too old to join the muster. The matter needs to be dealt with, so what do we do?’

  One of the chieftains answered, ‘A trusted man, familiar with matters of Law can be appointed for this occasion, but only if all present agree.’

  It took time before a Law Speaker had been agreed. Cuaran could be heard remonstrating with Wulfstan.

  ‘The enemy is at the gate and we fuss with matters that could wait.’

  ‘The circumstances do not allow us to wait, Sire,’ said Wulfstan. ‘We cannot have this matter festering and putting our united front at risk. And then, as I explained, there is ...’

  The rest of his words were a whisper.

  By the time the trial was ready to commence, I was trembling like an aspen leaf in a storm. Wulfstan refused to explain anything, entreating me to keep calm and stay silent. Ragnar arrived, bloodied and pale. He knew no more than I did. We held hands and tried to find strength in each other’s presence.

  The proceedings began. Sone Ivarson stepped forward. His long, unkempt grey hair and beard gave him the appearance of a wild beast. In a harsh voice he accused Unn and Hildur of the murder of his son.

  ‘No,’ they screamed as one. They were told to be silent.

  Sone continued, ‘I know the lad taunted them. He was humiliated by the rejection of his suit. I don’t deny the girl had the right to say “no” but he did not do so bad he should die for it. They’re evil those two – Loki’s children; full of spite, abominations.’ Many, far too many, of the assembled nodded and mumbled agreement. Only a few spoke up and said the girls had shown courage and skill in the battle we just fought.

  ‘That doesn’t mean they didn’t ambush and kill my son,’ shouted Sone.

  I asked to speak for the girls.

  ‘My fostrings are from good families. They know right from wrong and honour from disgrace. Their parents have instilled in them the rules for a just and upright life. They would never resort to the cowardly act of ambush. I stake my name and fortune on their innocence.’

  I asked that witnesses be heard and in turn Anlaf, Varg, Thorfinn and Ylva were called in to testify to the girls’ honesty. Ylva was interrogated more thoroughly.

  ‘I spent all my time with Unn and Hildur,’ she said, ‘there was no time that either of them could have committed this heinous crime of spearing a man in the back. And anyway, I know that if they sought blood they would openly challenge to a fair fight.’ It was to no avail. The girls were found guilty. Ragnar asked to be heard.

  ‘You pass sentence on two but only one hand guided that fatal spear. Who do you charge with the killing?’ This caused a great deal of discussion and head shaking.

  After a while I added: ‘You have heard Ylva swear that she was always with these two. Do you also accuse her?’ The silence was as thick as a new fleece. Many knew and respected Ylva. The thought of her laying ambush to spear a man in the back was abhorrent to all. I thought I’d got them, when a chieftain shattered my hopes.

  ‘She can’t stay awake all night long though, can she, Ylva Flamehair?’ That did it. I had no more argument to defend the girls.

  The twelve men took a vote and decided that Unn and Hildur were guilty of killing the son of Sone Ivarson. There was only one thing for me to do.

  ‘I maintain my belief that my fostrings are innocent of this deed. But the judgement has been passed according to our laws and I have to accept it. On behalf of my fostrings I offer fair compensation as weirgeld to Sone Ivarson for the loss of his son.’ Sone, his eyes wild and bloodshot, shook his fist.

  ‘I do not accept the offer of blood money. How can that bring my son back, how can it heal his wound or my broken heart? How can it comfort his mother in her old age? No, I don’t want money. I want retribution. I want the revenge that I am entitled to in our law. I want a life for his life.’

  ‘But,’ I interrupted, ‘whose life, if no single killer exists?’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘You choose.’

  Ragnar shouted that this was all wrong but was told to keep his peace or be sent from the meet. I struggled to keep my voice steady.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I will not, as I don’t believe either is guilty.’

  Sone’s smile was that of a man who’s lost his reason as he roared, ‘Then I choose for you, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. The abominations are in your house. You answer for them. The ultimate guilt is yours. I have your son. Your son for mine.’ One of his men brought Kveldulf. Sone grabbed him and pushed him to stand in front. My son was seven years old. He was brave. Hard hands held him down, a knife rested on his throat and he did not cry. His eyes met mine and it was I who screamed.

  ***

  ‘No!’ Two voices rang out, mine and that of Unn’s father, Ingolf Sigtryggson.

  ‘Stay your hand, Sone, and hear me.’ Ingolf had all the agony of a fettered Loki etched on his face. He drew his sword. ‘It is my life you are due. Unn, the child my first wife gave birth to seemed to me an abomination and I detested her from the day she had her first rage. A berserker is a good man to have on your side but in a woman such fury is a curse. Or so I thought. Then I saw my daughter fight. She’s brave. I felt proud of her and I knew that she is of my loins. Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter has nurtured and tamed her and made her a true warrior. I feel ashamed that another had to do what I should have done. I decided to tell her that I was proud of her and to welcome her home as my own. Then I witnessed your son taunt and torment her and a blind rage came over me. I speared him from an ambush. It was a cowardly act. I regret not challenging him to single combat. I ask you to let me die sword in hand.’

  Sone howled like a hundred wolves. He grabbed his battleaxe. A couple of strides brought him to Ingolf. The mill-sharpened edge severed Ingolf’s head from his body in one stroke. Nobody had the time or perhaps the inclination to interfere. A debt of blood had been paid. Hildur cradled Unn in her arms. The two of them looked like pieces of driftwood.

  I held my son in my arms. Ragnar held us both.

  ‘I thought he was one of us,’ said Kveldulf, ‘I thought it was safe to go with him. He said I was to wait for you here. But then he tied me up. I tried to be brave, Mor, so you and Far would be proud of me.’

  ***

  Ingolf Sigtryggson had two sons, one was badly wounded but the other was sent for and given Ingolf’s sword and helmet. Wulfstan told him how his father had died and the young man turned on Unn.

  ‘It’s your fault. Our father’s reputation lies in tatters, the family dishonoured. All because of you. I wish they’d put you out for the trolls when you were born. You have brought nothing but grief to us.’ His sister was too stunned to respond. I tried to intervene.

  ‘Your father changed his mind about Unn. He said she’d made him proud.’ The youngster didn’t even look at me. Before anyone could say anything more, he spat in Unn’s face and walked off.

  ‘Oh, shame on you,’ cried Hildur. She supported Unn with one arm and used her own neckerchief to wipe Unn’s face. I was filled with sadness for this girl who seemed destined never to be accepted by her own.

  ***

  Kveldulf received praise from all quarters. Even Cuaran and the Archbishop joined in. Cuaran gave him a small dagger and invited him to join his housekarls when he was older. Wulfstan fastened a silver brooch to his tunic, patted him on the shoulder and commended his courage. Then he turned to me and Ragnar.

  ‘Sone behaved dishonourably, but ...’

  ‘He did worse than that,’ Ragnar interrupted. ‘He was set to kill our son. We shall have redress.’
Wulfstan nodded.

  ‘To capture a child is felony. You must bring a lawsuit to your next Thing meet.’ Ragnar’s face was as cold as ice-covered rock. ‘If we wait we will appear weak and indecisive. I challenge Ingolf now.’ He pointed to the broken figure slumped in a corner. ‘There are enough witnesses to his deed.’

  ‘It may not be as simple as that,’ said Wulfstan. Before he had time to explain anything, Cuaran interrupted:

  ‘Enough time has been wasted already. I agreed to wait for this trial because the child’s life was in danger but this is straightforward. I shall settle it now.’ He pointed to Hildur. ‘Girl, take your friend and the boy outside. They have seen enough.’ Then he called two of his housekarls to bring Sone to him. The stricken man did not resist. They put his sword in his hand, closed his fingers round the hilt. He died without a sound. I’m not sure he knew what was happening to him. He had tried to kill my son and he deserved to die. I would have argued that in front of our law assembly and the Lawmen would have decided. But was this how justice was made? I remembered how my own father was executed in the same manner, without a trial, by a king who thought himself above the law. This was not what I had been led to believe we were fighting for.

  ***

  Cuaran called for the most important chieftains to attend him. All others were told to leave. I was still shaking from the impact of the trial but it felt important to find out what King Anlaf Cuaran was planning. So I sneaked in behind a couple of broad backs where Cuaran and Wulfstan wouldn’t be able to see me.