Norseman Raider (The Norseman Chronicles Book 4)

by Jason Born

  Godfrey slowly mustered a stately attitude. “Lady Edana, it is not customary to burst into a king’s longhouse unannounced and then compound the infraction by accusing him of things which you know nothing about.”

  The cow wouldn’t be cowed. “You’re my cousin! I knew you when you still shit your trousers. And about Horse Ketil, I know enough. His family here and his extended family in Ireland and Scotland, you recall, allow you to reign over this hunk of rock and a few others because I ask them to stay their strong hands. I am the glue that binds your operation together.” Maybe at one time, I thought. Now Godfrey’s glue was a monstrous hoard of treasure. “Should now be the time I change my opinion? Should I foster the natural distrust of you and take my men to the side of Ketil’s family? To be clear, my intentions would involve deposing you and your Norseman followers. Will you work to retrieve my husband to get back into my good graces?”

  I remember thinking that I’d stick the woman like a finished hog. We could put her on a spit and feed the poor on the island for weeks. Killian could speak a sermon on the subject. Loki’s words echoed again in my mind, “Politics of the Irish Sea.” The fat woman roasting over a fire might not do.

  And Godfrey clearly believed in Edana’s authority, for he didn’t send her out in disgrace. The king calmly studied her small army and said, “I recall that you submitted to my and Killian’s authority for your divorce.”

  “A divorce never granted by the whims of your fancy and your priest’s desires. I submitted by choice. It’s a choice I am reconsidering,” she barked. Edana glowered at Killian.

  “And what makes a man you hated and wanted to divorce so very important?” I asked rather dumbly.

  “I’ll answer that,” interrupted Killian.

  “You’ll not,” croaked Edana.

  Gudruna chopped a hand in the air like an axe. “Stop this!” Godfrey leaned back in his throne. He reached down and studied the brilliant hilt of his new sword, preparing to let the able Gudruna handle the beast before them. He was probably dreaming of his next conquest, his eventual revenge on Dal Riata. Such thoughts constantly lapped the shores of his mind.

  “We know why you want the man back. It is your best way to convince Ketil’s family that you are on their side. You want power for yourself. Without him you are nothing more than an old widow. At your age a new husband would be difficult to catch and you would soon find yourself in the nunnery,” said Gudruna.

  “And your new sisters would quickly find themselves eaten out of the convent,” mumbled the priest.

  “Killian, keep your bickering mouth quiet,” warned Godfrey. He whitened his grip on the sword, but left it in the scabbard. The small priest glowered, grumbling in silence.

  “Just because we know your reasons for wanting your drunkard of a husband back and just because we despise your reasons, does not mean they don’t have merit,” began Gudruna.

  Killian and I looked at the queen with furrowed brows. Godfrey gave a wry grin as he appreciated Gudruna’s deft statecraft. He shrugged and waved for his woman to continue.

  “We are not foolish. We value the peaceful benefits that come with the support of Horse Ketil’s people, on Man and Ireland and even Scotland.”

  “I should say so! Despite your recent fortune – all of it lucky, from what I’ve heard – you command an army of, what, two hundred men in total? What do you have – five ships if you count those you’ve stolen?” Edana put her plump hands on her hips. She ended with a satisfied, “Humph.”

  Gudruna nodded. Godfrey was shaking his head. “More than that. The Manx have reconsidered. Many who were once for Ketil have found a place in their hearts for me. New ones join every day. And more will come. The peddler I just overpaid will spread the news. Within the month, men will pour in from all over the seas,” said the king.

  “Ha! Not enough men will be foolish enough to follow you.” Edana scanned the then empty hall and pointed to me. “This idiot and more like him, perhaps. But no more.”

  Gudruna frowned. “King Godfrey, Lady Edana, the number of men that serve us or will serve us is not the issue. Securing the power due Edana is what we must discuss.” I thought that the number of men serving someone actually was the issue, for power would determine who would rule. But I didn’t understand that sometimes in the art of politics its participants say the opposite of what they believe. The queen fiddled with her gold amulet. “King Godfrey, we may do one of two things. We may send envoys to negotiate with King Maredubb for Ketil’s release. I think truly that neither you nor Edana wish that. Or, we may discuss a power-sharing relationship right here on this island, granting your cousin and her men sway over local issues.” The queen turned to face her husband. She winked so that only the king and I saw her, leaving Edana in the dark.

  Godfrey gently set his prized sword down next to his throne. He stood, nodding, and walked to Edana. He made a show of grasping her hands in his. “Lady Edana, cousin, I’ve allowed much sport to be made of you and with you. I’ve allowed this priest too much freedom. But you and my wife here have today shown me my errors. You’ve reminded me of my obligations for further peace for our subjects, Manx and Norse. Come back another time when we may work out specific details on our sharing. It will be good for me to know that my own family member controls our new homeland while I concentrate abroad and expand our frontiers.”

  Edana jerked her hands free. “Oh, that’s a brilliant speech – and extemporaneous, too!” She paced back and forth in front of her small army. “When do we meet? I’ll not be put off with this like I am in the divorce.”

  Godfrey’s face tightened. It reddened. I thought he was going to belch fire at the woman. Gudruna interrupted him before the fit could erupt. “One week. I’ll personally arrange everything for a week’s time.”

  “No, we’ll meet tomorrow,” clipped Edana. “That will give me just enough time to lay out my terms.”

  Godfrey clenched his jaw. Gudruna answered easily. “Very well. You may find lodging in the city and come by in the morning.” Gudruna patted the throne next to her. Godfrey obediently sat. The queen continued. “And my warrior king has taken so much plunder in the past several weeks that he has treasure to offer.”

  Godfrey blanched.

  Edana’s eyes became fixed on the queen. She was as greedy as any man. She was as greedy as her husband, that much is sure. “A few trinkets from a poor Welsh king won’t be enough!” warned Edana.

  “Some,” corrected Gudruna, “only some is from Maredubb. The rest is from the English and they are wealthy enough.”

  Edana pinched her fat lips as she thought. “What say you warrior king? Do you agree with the mind behind your throne? Will you meet in the morning? Will you pay me my due?”

  Godfrey spent time grinding his teeth, obviously regretting that he had let his woman perform the negotiations. But it was clear he had no other ideas about how to recapture the peace from Edana and more importantly how to keep the peace with Horse Ketil’s armed kinsmen. Through clenched teeth, Godfrey answered, “Yes, it will be as the queen says.”

  “Then I’ll see you right here in the morning,” said Edana. “If you don’t keep your word on this, I will begin fomenting discontent by midday. If that happens, by tomorrow’s gloaming, you’ll have an armed horde outside your gates.” Without warning, the corpulent woman spun on her heels and wedged her way between her twin lines of men. They splayed apart like the sides of a log split with a stout maul.

  When she had gone, Godfrey seized his woman’s hand. His grip was tender despite his obvious anger. “Give her my island! Share Maredubb’s treasure? Spill English coins into her ample lap? I need that wealth for my own army. A vow of peace? All this for my fat cousin? Horse Ketil was caught in the act of treachery. Without Halldorr rapping him on his head, we’d all be dead. Now I’ve got the same thing in my own family.” Godfrey looked up at the rafters and uttered a string of curses. When he finished he glanced at Killian. “Sorry for the Christian slurs, priest.�
�� He didn’t apologize for threatening to crush Thor’s balls in his tirade. “Horse Ketil is probably already free. He is probably a drunken member of Maredubb’s court. Ketil’s probably already sent representatives to his family here and in Ireland and Scotland. What we need is unity! I’ll need all that wealth to protect my land and to seize more.”

  “Are you quite finished?” asked Gudruna, cutting off her husband.

  “No!” he shouted.

  I chuckled, for the queen truly meant that he was finished whether he wanted to be or not. She walked over his next several words with her own. “We are king and queen here and over several islands. We hold on with the most tenuous of grips.”

  “That is true,” began Godfrey.

  “You’re finished, husband,” said Gudruna as a soothing reminder. Godfrey scowled at Killian and me before we could laugh. “You have now accumulated significant riches. The only other piece we lack is men. How confident are you that men will come?”

  Godfrey sat silently.

  “Speak,” urged his wife.

  “I thought I was finished,” said the king not unlike a five year old child. “Men will come. They must come or we are finished. Gold won’t protect our city or this island or my ships. We need men and so they must come to us.”

  The queen set out her hands, palms up. “There you have it. They will come. You’ll have your army. Your army will protect you from Maredubb and Ketil’s family, with or without Edana.”

  “But what will I pay my soldiers with if I have to give my cousin a chunk of Maredubb’s gold?”

  Gudruna shook her head, tut-tut-ting Godfrey. “Husband, we’ll see just how confident you are in your ability to build a real force of sea warriors. Arrest the fat cow in the morning. Ambush her tiny force and kill them or throw them in chains as well.”

  “But Ketil,” said Killian. “The traitor’s family.”

  “The king said it himself. His family might already be against us. Horse Ketil and Maredubb are likely allying with them right now, plotting our overthrow. We need only to build our forces and strengthen ties to Dyflin, the friendly Irish clans, and our Norse homeland. His cousin does have sway over her in-laws, but not that much.”

  “She sways the earth when she walks,” growled Killian.

  Godfrey was smiling at his wife. He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Then he pulled her to him and kissed her lips. When the moments lingered and her hand went into his lap, Killian and I backed away.

  The doors to the hall burst open a third time. Randulfr came in much the same way as Killian and Edana before him. His face was flushed. His skin shone with sweat. His chest heaved from a long run. I was instantly worried. Randulfr pounded to a halt in front of the twin thrones.

  Godfrey, his lips on his woman’s neck, peeked up at his lieutenant. The king rolled his eyes and grunted. The two royal lovers pulled away from one another but still held hands. “What is it?” asked the king.

  “Ships, Godfrey. Two ships of men have arrived, one from Ireland, one from Normandy. They are full of men who wish to fight for you.”

  The king grinned wickedly. He slowly stood, gathered his sword and his woman, and began to walk toward his small bed chambers at the structure’s rear. “I told you they’d come,” he said to Gudruna.

  “You did,” she cooed.

  “Randulfr!” barked Godfrey over his shoulder. “Talk to Halldorr and figure out how we’ll best get Edana and her men arrested in the morning. Keep it quiet.”

  Randulfr looked to me, confused. Killian grinned. It was an impious smile for a priest. It was infectious. Soon the corners of my mouth were turning up at the thought of shackling the rotund, pompous woman.

  Godfrey playfully pushed his woman through the door to their chambers. “I told you they’d come,” he said again.

  “And now it’s our turn,” laughed Gudruna as the king kicked the door closed behind them.

  . . .

  And come they did. The men, that is.

  Hardscrabble bandits, downright brigands, pirates, fools, unlucky farmers, cast-offs, all of them came to serve the up-and-coming king. Sailors, slaves, blacksmiths who wanted to be warriors, and warriors who wanted to settle into a trade flooded the town. They came from the poorest hillsides in Wales and the windswept coasts of Man. Over the coming weeks they came from Ireland, Sudreyjar, Dyflin, old Pictland, the Faeroerne, and Norway. A smattering of Danes showed up in a rotting hulk of a boat that looked like it would soon be clogging up the sea floor of whatever port in which it finally sank. Three Englishmen, well, they were from Cornwall and Scilly, so we considered them men of the sea and not Englishmen, sailed with the Danes. Men came from all over looking for fortune, and since rapid success sires litters of triumph, they were cocksure. I was shocked at just how fast news spread of Godfrey’s victories. The sword peddler’s words and those of Godfrey’s victims traveled far and wide.

  What little wealth in terms of silver coins these new arrivals into Godfrey’s court on Man brought with them was spent in the two taverns and one brothel in town. The half dozen tired whores and enthusiastic barmen quickly had all the additional riches in their pockets. But like all coins it ran away like water to the sea. The whores bought ale and clothing. The tavern owners bought whores and food. The small economy of Man underwent a momentary surge.

  Mostly our new citizens, these rascals, brought the same problems that had likely stalked them through their entire lives. Merchants and families quickly discovered the necessity of closing and barring their doors and windows at sunset. The streets were filled with drunken men, armed drunkards who were eager for action and riches. The nightly fights were, more often than not, deadly. The newcomers and some established soldiers died in the muddy avenues with knives plunged into their chests or spears jutting from their bellies. Muscular, rapid fists killed three men within the first week.

  I had grown up in the normal, coarse, harshness of life. Norway, Iceland, and Greenland had all required diligence for the mere act of survival. To make it through one single winter in any of those locations meant that a man and his family were tough and wily. My first and second families in those places had retained their sense of wonder and joy in the world despite the difficult lifestyles prescribed to them by fate. I had been a professional raider now for several months. I had seen battle, blood, and downright war. Things had gone poorly and situations had gone well. The Welshmen and Englishmen against whom I had struggled were tenacious, unbending. The men with whom I had fought were rough, but had joviality that could shine through in the bleakest of circumstances. This new batch of men was unlike any I had ever met. They were brutish. They were cruel for cruelty’s sake. Though they pledged their fealty in public ceremonies to King Godfrey, they remained mercenaries. And mercenaries, everyone should know, had loyalties that shifted like riverbed silt.

  “Half of these men could be instruments of Maredubb,” protested Killian. “They could be agents of the Ui Neill, Dal Riata, or Horse Ketil himself! They are sent here to usurp your authority, to kill you.” Killian walked next to an oxen-drawn cart that was heavy laden with a newly carved stone. A cross relief was etched on its front side. Inside the boundaries of the Christian symbol were Norse runes, chopped in by one of Godfrey’s masons.

  Godfrey looked down from the charger he rode. His fine new blade rested in its scabbard against the horse’s flank. “I assume they all work for someone else. That’s why I’ll keep them close. When I kept Ketil at my side it worked out in the end. At best and most likely these newcomers operate for themselves well before they give any consideration to their holy oaths to me.” The king gave me a compliment by looking my way. “They can’t all be bound to their king by blood like Halldorr.”

  “So what will you do?” asked Leif. He rode a sloppy-looking bay next to my equally questionable borrowed horse. Each of the animals’ backs swayed low.

  “He’ll die. His queen will die. His kingdom will go to another. I’ll serve a new king with
in the year. That’s what he’ll do! That’s what I’ll do,” said Killian, whipping the nearest ox to add an exclamation. “King Godfrey is getting ahead of himself in doing this thing we do.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” Godfrey said with a roll of his eyes. “You liked the idea yesterday.” Our procession stopped just outside Kirk Braddan. Edana’s incessant babbling, which had been drowned out by the clatter of hooves, feet, and wheels, invaded our ears. “Would someone please gag the woman,” said the king.

  Loki hopped up to the cart on which she rode and stuffed a rag into her trap. The woman fought with vigor, nipping his fingers with her bared teeth. Soon all we could hear was a low, guttural series of moans emanating from the beast of a woman. But just as she’d given up on the struggle against the cords that bound her wrists and ankles, in a short while Edana gave up fighting the cloth.

  Workers came to the cart that carried the stone cross and retrieved shovels. Godfrey absentmindedly pointed to the earth with his eyes and they quickly set to work at the side of the road digging a hole to receive the monument.

  King Godfrey rested his hands on his saddle’s pommel, patiently waiting. “I trust none of our new men, Leif. Hell, I barely trust you and you helped bring me Aberffraw and Watchet! Distrust is what will save me. I’ll have Randulfr, Loki, and Halldorr, and a dozen others around me when we go to war.” The king put me into the list of men he trusted. It was true, for he had allowed me to see where he stashed his hoards of riches. We had killed, no murdered, our faithful soldiers over the last pit. Their blood truly shackled me to the king. Why he trusted me and not his other new men, like Leif or Tyrkr or the other Greenlanders, I do not know. Looking back, I suppose it was because I was simple. I was not simple like the village dolt, drooling down my chest. I was simple to read. I wanted a fat woman and land that produced fat crops, even though I temporarily thought otherwise. Since I had never been fortunate enough to get a wife or land, I would serve whoever was closest. Godfrey and, likely, anyone else could see that. King Godfrey meant to pull me close to himself. “No assassin will get through that mess of muscle. Besides, these newcomers want strength. Even if they came with treacherous intent, once they see their share of hacksilver and gold, their loyalties will settle where they ought.” The king scratched at a flea in his beard.