He swallowed two large gulps of mead and set his tankard down. As he leaned his head against the wattle and daub wall that was in desperate need of more daub to fill the gaps in many areas, he ignored the scratchiness of the clay against his head. He closed his eyes and focused on singling out conversations until he found one that caught his attention. He swore he heard someone mention Travers’ name. He lifted his head and scanned the men nearest him as he kept his ears pricked for any mention of Travers. The rough and rowdy bunch of drunks appeared no different than the average tavern dwelling drunk, and Galinn hadn’t heard anything else to indicate he heard what he thought he heard. He gave the rest of the drunks a quick glance as he leaned his head back once again. Then he saw him. Galinn sat straight up and narrowed his eyes. The unmistakable long, greasy, dark hair, the thick black beard, and beady black eyes that belonged to the man who killed Rónán sat two tables away from him.
The sound of his pulse thundering in his ears drowned out the noises around him until it was all he heard. His hand went to his sword of its own volition and he had to stop himself from unsheathing the weapon. His mind raced as all of his thoughts, worries, and concerns melted away, leaving only a single thought. Kill that bastard.
He took a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn’t believe his luck. Now that he’d spotted his quarry, there was no chance of him getting away. Galinn rested his head against the wall again, careful to appear as uninterested as he did before noticing Rónán’s killer. Not allowing the killer out of his sight for more than a couple of seconds at a time, Galinn took a closer look at the men in the tavern. If one of Travers’ men were here, could there be others as well? No one looked familiar.
Galinn schooled himself to patience as he waited for the man to leave. His knee bounced up and down as he waited, wondering if the killer would leave alone. Not that it mattered. Galinn was determined to avenge Rónán’s death. If he had to kill someone who got in the way of that goal, so be it.
Minutes stretched into hours and Galinn grew impatient. As Galinn reached the limit of his patience, the killer stood up and stumbled to the door. Alone. Galinn watched him leave, waited a couple of seconds to both not arouse suspicion and to see if anyone followed him, and then Galinn slipped out the door.
The warm night wrapped around Galinn like a cloak. He looked around until he found the killer trying to make his way to the stable. His wobbly gait gave him the appearance of a man trying to walk on land for the first time after being at sea for weeks. Galinn almost felt bad for taking advantage of the man in this state, but he clamped down on that notion with an iron fist. That man killed Rónán when he had no chance to fight back. He deserved no sympathy.
“You there!” Galinn called.
The killer tripped and fell face first in the dirt when he tried to turn to see who addressed him without stopping first.
Galinn’s grin spread across his lips as the killer struggled to right himself. He swung his head to check up and down the road. No one was about.
The killer muttered something as he pulled himself onto his hands and knees and tried to stand up.
Galinn moved to help him up. “Hang on. There you go.”
The killer swayed noticeably, but didn’t fall so Galinn took his hands away from his shoulders. “Get your hands off me. I can do it,” the killer slurred as he feebly brushed Galinn’s hands away.
Galinn raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. The two men stood in the shadows cast between torches on the outside of the tavern and the stable. If they took a few steps in either direction, they’d be within the circle of light of one torch or the other, depending on which way they moved. Though obscured by the shadows, Galinn hesitated to kill the man where he stood. “Where are you going?”
The killer raised a heavy arm toward the stables. “I’m going to get my horse.”
Galinn shook his head. “You’re in no shape to ride, my friend.” He hated even pretending to care and the words burned his tongue.
“You can’t tell me what to do!” he yelled with surprising clarity. “Do you know who I am? Do you?”
A rush flooded over Galinn and he couldn’t hold back any longer. “You’re the man who killed my dear friend, Rónán. The healer of Kincora.”
The killer’s face scrunched as Galinn’s words seeped into his mead addled brain. “Rónán…?” he slurred as he swayed. “You’re dear friend…?” He reached up to scratch his chin and when his fingers disappeared in the disgusting rat’s nest, Galinn wondered if anything else was hiding in there and he missed the recognition that flashed on the killer’s face. “You’re Galinn Ketilsson!”
The drunken declaration sent Galinn into action and he drew his sword.
The killer appeared to sober up in the blink of an eye as he drew his sword. “I’ll kill you like I did your friend.”
Galinn’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword and he fought to keep calm. “No, you won’t. I’m not an old man who’s bound and held by the bishop.”
Rónán’s killer made a strangled noise that may have been a laugh, but Galinn would never know for sure. In that moment, he pulled his sword back, stepped to the side, and slashed it across the killer’s throat. His beady black eyes bulged from their sockets as he dropped his sword and pressed his hands to his neck. He dropped to his knees, frantically squeezing the gaping wound on his neck to hold it closed. The pressure did nothing to slow the bleeding and Galinn smiled with a deep sense of satisfaction as he watched the dark red liquid spill out around the killer’s fingers until his beard was soaked through.
“Rónán was a good man who didn’t deserve what you did to him. It may have been on the order of the bishop, and not something you would have done on your own, but as you can see, that doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is that it was your blade that took my friend’s life, and now it’s mine that takes yours.”
Galinn wiped his sword on the killer’s tunic before returning it to its sheath as the man’s hands went slack and he fell over dead. He smiled as the killer’s last breath came out as nothing more than a slow gurgle.
CHAPTER 5
As Thora led her people through the gates of the Fort of the Marshes by torchlight in the darkness just before dawn, a distinct feeling of coming home washed over her. The sense of belonging that she hadn’t expected to feel helped offset the loneliness that threatened to drown her every time she thought about Galinn. She squared her shoulders as she stepped off to the side and watched as their small band of forty people made their way inside the gates.
“As Odinkar planned, this is going to be our home.” The faces before her glanced around nervously. She shared their concern. The fort needed so much work before it could be considered even halfway safe. Who wouldn’t be nervous in this place in its current state after suffering multiple raids and attacks? “You’re right to be nervous. There is much to do before we can truly be safe here. Beri and Bjorn will assign the necessary tasks to get this place secure. Those of us not working on the defenses will be needed to help build the homes and tend the fields so we’ll have food this winter. The defenses are our first priority, and equally important is, of course, food. Until the houses are finished, we can set up temporary shelters for those who need it, as we did at the outpost. That way, we can focus on completing the tasks Bjorn and Beri feel are the most important for defense or working the fields. The building of permanent homes will come later.” She expected groaning or some other form of displeasure over the housing aspect, but no one even blinked.
“Also, training will go on as usual, but there will be a major difference. Any woman who is interested in learning to fight is welcome to train with the men.” Thora waited for the excited murmur to die down and she smiled at the eager faces on some of the women. When she ran it by Bjorn and Beri on the way back, both were open to the idea. However, they weren’t sure how many women would be interested in learning to fight. Judging from the smiling faces before her, they’d have at least ten women
on the training field.
She watched the men of the village to see if any of them had a negative reaction to the idea of women fighting, but none seemed to. A few men nudged their wives in encouragement. One man, however, seemed none too pleased with the idea. Ulf’s down turned lips and sullen expression spoke to his opinion on the matter. Thora wasn’t surprised by his reaction. Ulf wasn’t her biggest fan, having been a steadfast supporter of Odinkar. Ulf returning with them—that was the surprise. She fully expected him to round up his four sons, as well as his brother and his family, and disappear. She wanted to take that as a sign of him choosing to give her a chance, but she knew better. He’d kept himself apart from most of the villagers over the few days since she took power, leaving Thora little chance to speak to him privately as she meant to.
Ulf’s brother, Thorston stood with a wide grin and an arm around his wife, Frida. Thora hoped Frida would join the ranks of the women warriors.
“For now, those of you who wish to get some sleep may do so. The place appears to be as we left it, so any place you choose to sleep should be fine. If anyone is of the mind, we could begin working on the defenses now.”
Bjorn caught her eye with a glance asking if she was finished. She gave a short nod. He stepped up and began directing people who approached him. Before long, the sounds of work filled the fort. Some pulled rotten or damaged posts, beams, and stakes from the wall under Beri’s watchful eye, while others cut trees from the forest across the river. Men, women, and children worked together to cut the logs into posts, stakes, and beams and moved them to where they needed to go. Thora, Skathi, and a handful of others spent the better part of the morning setting up lean-tos and checking the condition of the buildings.
As Thora stepped out of the unfinished oval longhouse that would eventually become the home she shared with Skathi and Bjorn, she collided with the hard physique of Ulf.
“Oh, Thora! Sorry.” Ulf grabbed her upper arm to stop her from falling.
Grateful for his quick thinking in catching her, she smiled. “I’m sorry, Ulf. I should have looked before I stepped out. Leave it to me to go through an open doorway without looking and run right into someone.”
Ulf let his hand fall once he was sure she was steady on her feet and he looked away. “I was looking for you.”
Thora took a couple of steps back to put some space between them. His tall frame radiated nervous energy. His full lips alternated between a nervous smile and a frown. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other every few seconds. Whatever Ulf wanted to talk to her about couldn’t be good by the way he was acting. She glanced around, noticing how everyone else was busy with their tasks, leaving the two of them alone. “I’m glad you found me. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” She smiled again, hoping to cover her nervousness and diffuse his nervous energy. Ulf was her first human obstacle she needed to overcome. A good leader could finesse their way around keeping their subjects content, and she wanted to be a good leader.
He tilted his head and his brow furrowed. “You were wanting to talk to me? What about?”
She took a deep breath and dove in without preamble. “About you staying here and giving me a chance.”
He jerked his head back. “You mean you don’t want me to?”
Heat rose in Thora’s face until she worried she’d burst into flames. “No! That’s not what I meant.” She smoothed a hand across her forehead, brushing away a wandering hair. “I meant I’m glad you decided to stay and give me a chance. That is what you coming back here means, yes?” Her pulse pounded in her ears and heat in her face hadn’t let up. This wasn’t how she imagined their talk going. In her imagination, she wasn’t saying things that he would take incorrectly or embarrassing herself.
He narrowed his eyes and then let out a laugh that startled Thora. “Oh, that! Yes. I’ve thought about what you said in your speech, and I’ve talked with a few people. I’m willing to give you a chance.”
Thora let out the breath she held and laughed with relief. “That’s great! I hope you’ll be glad you made that choice.”
He nodded and some of his nervous energy seemed to dissipate. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m impressed with what you’ve done in such a short time.” He motioned toward the walls, which were steadily being closed in and secured. “You’ve got everyone working together on the plan you came up with.”
Thora raised a hand. “The plan wasn’t mine alone. I’ve had a lot of help from those who know better.”
Ulf laughed and the deep rumble elicited a smile to spread across Thora’s lips. “That’s what I mean! You weren’t afraid to ask for help when you didn’t know something and you took the advice given to you. Odinkar would’ve never done such a thing. And the shieldmaidens! I wish Odinkar would have allowed the women to train with us. My Yrsa would have loved to join in on the training. I don’t know if you remember her, but she was a fierce woman.” The way his voice softened as he spoke about her pulled at Thora’s heart. He was a man that loved his wife, even seven years after her death. “There was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect the ones she loved. She died making sure Odger made it into this world alive.” His eyes filled with unshed tears.
Thora swallowed past the lump that formed in her throat. “I didn’t know her that well, but I do remember how she loved your family.”
Ulf sniffed. “Odinkar never allowed her to train, despite me asking repeatedly. He’d say she was better off taking care of the children, as was a woman’s job. I never agreed with him on that. I’m glad that one of your first acts as jarl was to open the training to women.”
Thora couldn’t believe what she heard. Any time she thought of this exchange with Ulf, she imagined it ending with him begrudgingly agreeing to give her a chance after her long, drawn out attempt to convince him. She never once considered he’d approve of her actions, much less come out and tell her so. Maybe she had him all wrong. “I saw it as the right thing to do. Bjorn had a tough time getting Odinkar to agree to let him train me. I know how frustrating it is to want to learn something that would allow me to contribute to the well-being of the village and be told no only because I’m female. I couldn’t do that to another woman.” She shook her head.
“You make me wish I had a daughter so I could help her on the training field.” His brown eyes warmed with his smile.
“You may not have a daughter to train, but Thorston does. If Revna decides to join when she’s old enough, I’m sure your niece would love having the benefit of your experience and training to guide her.”
Ulf wagged a finger at her and smiled. “You flatter an old man, but I’ll take it.”
Thora laughed and raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying the exchange. “You’re the same age as Bjorn, no? I doubt he’d agree with you on being an old man.”
He held his palms up and shrugged. “Having a young jarl, one you’ve watched grow from a babe into a strong and capable young woman, has a way of making one feel old.”
“Aye, that it does, Ulf.” Bjorn walked up and nudged Thora playfully with his elbow before indicating he needed to see Ulf over by the wall.
As the two men walked off, Thora breathed a heavy sigh of relief, grateful the exchange with Ulf went so well.
CHAPTER 6
Thora pushed aside her blanket and stretched her aching body as she took in the pink and peach tendrils that spanned the horizon of the rising sun. She was looking forward to waking up indoors and on a pallet bed instead of the ground, but couldn’t deny the beauty of the view she had this morning. Her longhouse was mostly finished, but she chose to sleep outside to give Bjorn and Skathi privacy in the home until the interior was finished and they had their own spaces.
As the day’s list of things to do pushed its way to the foreground of her mind, Thora smiled. The first day of training with her as jarl. The idea sent a shiver of excitement through her body. Though their village was down to forty inhabitants, Thora had confidence in Bjorn’s ability to whip the un
trained into a worthwhile fighting group. As she dressed, rolled up her bedding, and went about preparing for the day, her first day of training replayed in her mind.
She’d been so nervous the morning of her first training session with Bjorn, but also incredibly excited. She’d grown up watching the men practice, so she had a rough idea of what to expect, and she couldn’t wait to get her chance to participate. Still, when Bjorn handed her the axe he’d made for her, she had a moment of panic. As she ran her fingers over the intricately carved knot work and series of runes on the haft and gazed at the sharp iron head, reality slammed into her. Training wasn’t a game or sport. It was life or death. If she failed in her training, she would die in battle. If she succeeded in her training, she would kill others in battle. The enormity of the responsibility that came with being allowed to train with the men twisted her stomach. As bile rose, she jerked her gaze up and met Bjorn’s smiling face. In his wide grin and sparkling blue eyes, she found the much needed confidence that she could handle the responsibility she was given.
His smile faded. “Don’t get cold feet now. No niece of mine is going to have to depend on a man to defend her.”
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Your first lesson is the simplest to hear, but the hardest to do.” Bjorn nodded toward the axe in her shaky hands. “That is never to be out of your hands when in battle, and it should always be on your belt in the event you end up in a situation when you need it. Study it. Make it a part of your body, and one you’d be uncomfortable without.”
Thora held the axe in the palms of her hands, taking in every detail. She recognized the runes set within the detailed knot work carved into the hardwood haft as those for protection, discipline, strength, and patience. She ran her thumb over the runes, and then tested the sharp edge on the iron axe head.
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