Banners of the Northmen

by Jerry Autieri

  Contents

  Title Page

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Author's Note

  Banners of the Northmen

  by

  Jerry Autieri

  Copyright © 2013 by Jerry Autieri

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  CHAPTER ONE

  October 885 CE

  Ulfrik crouched behind the shrub willow, peering through the night at squat buildings outlined in silver moonlight. He focused on the mead hall. Orange light seeped from the edges of its doors, though no windows adorned this beggar's hall. His hands tightened on his spear, straining to listen but hearing only the purr of the sea on the nearby beach. With a grunt, he stood, the faded green tunic covering his mail hauberk catching a branch as he did. He replaced his helmet and sidled down slope to his men.

  "They're in the hall, no guards at the door," he whispered to his gathered crew. Thirty men hugged the damp and cold earth, metals blackened with mud and dark wool cloaks drawn tight over their heads. Their breath rose in gray curls and their eyes flashed in the dark. They were as anxious as him to close the trap. "But there's no singing, no sounds at all."

  The statement fell flat and the men traded worried glances. Toki pulled down his cowl and scratched his scalp. "They should be feasting or celebrating. Do you think they spotted us?"

  Ulfrik shook his head. "If they were alerted, they'd be faking a celebration to draw us out. I don't understand the silence."

  "A waste of time this was," a man muttered loud enough to demonstrate he wanted all to hear. Ulfrik did not need to see him to recognize Thrand's complaints. "We should not have listened to the gossip of traders."

  "Then go back to the ship," Ulfrik hissed, instinctively tucking his head down. He mastered his tone and continued. "You'll get none of the spoils if you do. Are you with us?"

  Thrand's dark shape sat like a lump of rock in the darkness. A few heads turned toward him, but most men looked aside. After a moment of chill silence, Ulfrik jabbed his spear butt into the earth to regain attention.

  "Einar, you lead seven men up the east side and be in position to pick off anyone fleeing for the trees. Toki, take three men to clear out anyone on guard or wandering near the hall. The rest of you with me. We fire up the hall and kill whoever spills out."

  Heads bobbed in acknowledgment. Einar and Toki selected their men and swept into the night. Waiting for them to reach their positions, Ulfrik removed his striking steel and gestured for the tinder box of dried heather branches. A ring of bodies crowded to block the sparks from enemy sight. In moments, Ulfrik breathed life into a small fire while another man unwrapped torches soaked in whale oil.

  "We steal from thieves tonight," Ulfrik said to the remaining men. "A great treasure awaits us in that hall, one that will bring us honor and glory. Let's go."

  Ulfrik cradled the tinder box while tucking his spear under arm. He did not lead a charge as much as a cautious jog. This was no glorious clash against enemies, no fair fight to bring glory to the victors. He consoled himself knowing these men in the hall were worse: slavers and murders who had happened upon more treasure than they deserved. He needed to raise a stronger army to defeat threats to his people, something only gold could enable.

  Halfway to the hall, they touched their oil soaked brands to the tinder box, then converged on the hall. The yellow globes of fire fanned out around the building. A scream that collapsed to a gurgle broke across the field of silver grass. Toki had silenced guards and the raid had begun.

  Torches spun through air to land on the roof thatch. A section fell away where a torch landed, such was the poor condition of the building. Too late to reconsider the truth of the raiders' wealth, Ulfrik kicked the hall door with a shout. He stumbled through, expecting it to have been barred but finding no resistance.

  Men scrambled to their feet, having been lying close to the hearth in slumber. Ulfrik scanned for the nearest, most alert man, then hurled his spear at him. The ill-thrown shaft pierced the man's thigh and he collapsed with a howl of shock and pain. Ulfrik unslung his shield and drew his sword, blocking the door while he hoped the roof caught flame.

  The raiders' leader sprung from the floor, clothed and wrapped in a bear skin, but unarmed. He kicked his drowsy men to life while the first tendrils of smoke spread along the murky ceiling. He and Ulfrik noted the smoke at the same time, and Ulfrik pulled back to seal the doors. He had only wanted to alarm and confuse them, and not burst in on them.

  "Bar the door," he shouted as he backed up. His men fed spear shafts through the door handles. In the same moment those trapped inside slammed against the door, cursing and screaming.

  The main force now trapped, Ulfrik spun about to face reinforcements. His crew had spread out, eyes on the surrounding buildings and weapons held low. No one came from the darkness, only Toki and his men emerging to the edge of the moonlight.

  "They're all inside the hall," Ulfrik said, more to himself than anyone else. No women or villagers had been seen on the way in and none now came to the brightening glow of flaming thatch. This place was a hideout and not the home he had been told to expect. He hoped the other information was not as wrong.

  The thud of axes shuddered on the hall walls, shaking off flaming bits of roof as the men inside chopped open an escape. The flames were not catching fast enough, and were dying in spots. Too much moisture was in the air and had permeated the thatch. But fear had gripped the enemy, and Ulfrik counted a frightened opponent half beaten.

  Men burst through the wall with growls and oaths on their lips. Ulfrik and his crew prepared to meet them with iron. The first pair flew from the gap with axes flailing in wild arcs. Spears impaled them, and Ulfrik's crew shoved their bodies back into the gap to impede the others. But desperation won out, and more spilled through.

  Another ax sundered the wall and widened the gap. Ulfrik trudged forward with his shield out, realizing the men inside were breaking free and had to be killed the hard way. "Crowd them at the wall," he ordered. "Don't let them escape in force. You three, follow me to the opposite side."

  At a brisk stride, the men fell in behind. Rounding the corner, he found what he expected: another breach where an arm and leg already poked through. As the man fell out of the narrow opening, Ulfrik kicked him onto his back and stabbed down into his gut. A rush of others followed on the first, and Ulfrik wheeled to find the wall had collapsed wide enough to let through two men at once.

  Now men leapt out, and Ulfrik ducked behind his shield as a poorl
y aimed blow struck for him. His three other men engaged those trying to flee, leaving Ulfrik to fend against two more.

  The two foes ranged about him, and Ulfrik saw the rabid glint in the eye of the one he had named as the leader. Each wielded a short sword better suited for a shield wall than a fight in the open. Neither had shields. "Surrender and I will show mercy," Ulfrik said, though not softening his stance.

  "By Odin's one eye! Die, you fucking dog!" The leader snarled and rushed forward.

  Ulfrik named the strike before it even launched, reading the intention in the undisciplined motions of the leader. Turning to the side, Ulfrik slammed the rim of his shield into the face of the second attacker as he watched the leader's blade flash blue and orange in the night. A satisfying snap of breaking bone preceded the other attacker's scream. The fight unfolded like the slow melt of ice on a warm morning. Ulfrik merely had to watch the leader overextend his ferocious strike, wait for the armpit and ribs to slide out from behind the protective animal pelt, then ram his sword into the exposed flesh.

  The blade slithered between the ribs beneath the leader's sword arm. The other opponent struggled to see through the blood and tears of his ruined face while his leader tumbled to the ground with death in his eyes. Ulfrik yanked up and back, so his sword would not snap as the man collapsed. It exited with a sucking noise and a thin trickle of blood trailed the blade.

  Whirling to face his second attacker, he discovered the man crashing to the grass with a sword blade in his neck. Thorstein, one of Ulfrik's crew, had dispatched his foes and now assisted him. With all the attackers slain on his side, Ulfrik looped around the back of the hall to ensure no others had carved an exit. None had. Then he rejoined his men on their side, finding an easy victory for his crew.

  The raid was over. Bodies heaped on the ground, some still half trapped in the breached walls. Blood puddled and arms twitched in the final moments of life. Over twenty raiders lay dead in a ring about their smoldering hall. The thatch fire pitifully burned out, and a section of roof collapsed as if to announce the end of hostilities.

  Ulfrik surveyed the carnage with a smile. His men all stood, though some clutched wounds, and he had taken no losses in the gambit. Now he had to only count the spoils.

  He called Einar out of his guarding position, and in moments all of his men had gathered around the hall. Many were already hunched over the dead and stripping away valuables.

  "Not much of a fire," Toki said as he came to Ulfrik's side.

  "But better off without it, honestly. No waiting for ashes to cool. Now we can be off at first light and head home." Ulfrik rubbed his hands, anticipating the treasures stacked inside the hall. The traders had described enough wealth to see his crews through winter. It only needed to be pulled from the wreckage of the raiders' hall.

  "Call Snorri around with the ship. We'll have theirs to tow, and I want to get this treasure on our ships tonight. This is a glorious moment." Toki laughed as he departed to execute Ulfrik's command. Ulfrik wiped the blood from his sword and smiled.

  At first Ulfrik blamed the moonlight. Later, he convinced himself the treasure lay buried under the hall. Finally, he told himself the wealth they had collected was acceptable for the effort expended. Squatting in a ring of men under the pink and yellow streaks of dawn, Ulfrik lifted a plain silver armband from the small pile of treasure before him. He rotated it through his hands, feeling the cold metal warm in his grip. Tossing it back onto the pile, the band gave a bright clink. Sea birds screeched in the distance.

  "Once we hack down the rings and a few of those plates, everyone should take away a fair portion of silver." Snorri's old voice sounded like thunder in the silent cluster of disappointed men. "I don't get a share, since I didn't do any of the fighting."

  "You guarded our ship, and rowed like the rest of us," Ulfrik said as rose to his feet. He grimaced as pain shot through his leg, a gift from his old enemy Hardar. "We agreed beforehand, and you'll get your due."

  "Then I'll forfeit my share to you. I'm an old man, and I can't eat silver anyway."

  "You can't even eat soup," Einar, his stepson, quipped. "Not with three teeth." Laughter rippled through the group, Ulfrik sensing the heaviness concealed behind it. He laughed as well, and rubbed his leg while smiling at Snorri. Age had seized him in these few years, rendering his face sunken and leathery and his motions labored and stiff. Heavy black rings circled eyes peering from behind grayish locks of hair. At least he had not gone bald, and retained an uncommon amount of hair for the old age of forty-five. Ulfrik still remembered him as a man half that age, standing with him in his father's shield wall.

  Everyone gazed down to the miserable treasure gathered in the field beside the hall. Dead bodies had already attracted gulls to peck and tear at the open wounds. Ulfrik experienced a wave of pity for the dead, having spent their lives for a paltry sum. Though deserving of death, as Ulfrik's informers had so vociferously proclaimed, he did not enjoy trapping and killing them inside their hall. Maybe because his Uncle Auden had burned alive in his hall and his father Orm had been poisoned, Ulfrik detested such tactics. However, he could not doubt their efficacy in battle.

  "Well, I can't eat silver either, but I'm taking it." Thrand pushed his way to the front, then scooped up a ring from the grass. He thrust it at Ulfrik, blue sky reflecting in its curve. "This is what we sailed all the way to Norway to get. This fucking pile of silver that won't pay for the repairs to our ship and weapons. Great job, Lord Ulfrik."

  Yanking Thrand's arm down, Ulfrik's free hand dropped to his sword hilt. "You weren't forced to join. You're drunk again, Thrand, but I won't indulge your disrespect. Do you understand?"

  Ulfrik locked his gaze with Thrand, whose face had grown puffy and red with drink. He had become unpredictable since his brother Njal died three years ago. He blamed Ulfrik and Toki for it. Having learned firsthand how evil words could undermine a leader, Ulfrik brooked none of that attitude from him or any other. He would rather fight now than find a knife at his throat later.

  Thrand backed down, as he always did, and twisted his arm from Ulfrik's grip. He flung the ring at the grass before Ulfrik's feet, then pushed away to be alone in his humiliation. Men parted for him, everyone familiar with his moody outbursts. Many heads shook as he stalked off, and Ulfrik let his hand fall from his sword.

  "He's a drunk and a poor speaker," Ulfrik said to the others. "But he voices what all of us think. I share your disappointment. We expected much more, and bet on easy riches we did not find. I should've suspected the traders used us for revenge rather than passing on good information. No king's fortune in the hands of this crew."

  "We still haven't made a proper search of the land and these other buildings," Toki said. "Maybe there's a chance they buried it nearby."

  Ulfrik sighed. "True, it should be fresh enough to find if it is. This is not their home, though, but an abandoned village. If anything, they were resting here to waylay the walrus ivory trade from the north. We might consider the same idea, actually."

  Walrus ivory traders made fat targets, but also employed escort ships that Ulfrik's small crew could not overtake. For that matter, neither could the raiders he had just defeated. He gave up trying to make sense of this, and accepted the traders had played him to eliminate a problem. Ulfrik never harassed traders, since his island home depended on them for survival. But the Norwegians were a different lot, and many pirates prowled the trade lanes out of Norway.

  "All right, let's check the houses and search for any hint of a fresh dig. Maybe they've got buried dead that'll give up some gold. Get looking."

  The men spread out under the brightening skies. Ulfrik drew in the sea air, glancing at the dark line of spruce trees and the violet and black mountain ridges pushing up behind them. He missed trees and forests. His home on the Faereyar Islands had no welcoming forests, no deer or elk to hunt nor any wolves to avoid. Many feared forests for elves and spirits dwelling within, but the trees had ever been a place of solace
for him.

  A voice broke his reverie. The shout came from a small byre standing near the mead hall. The door hung open and Thorstein stood framed against it. "There's a prisoner in here."

  Ulfrik jogged over, his man standing beside the door and pointing inside. Ulfrik ducked within, and the sunlight filtering through cracks and holes provided a dim light his eyes momentarily fought. Tied by his wrists to a pole stood a man even older than Snorri. He wore a gray shirt of rough wool and his brown pants were cinched at his bony waist by a cord. His right pant leg had torn to the knee, revealing a thin leg covered in gray hair and bruises. The man's eyes were dark enough to be black, and were set into a regal head that titled back defiantly. Ulfrik would have laughed had the gesture not seemed so natural to the man.

  "They must have recently put him here," Ulfrik said as he moved closer to inspect the man.

  "How do you know?" Thorstein remained at the door, waving others over.

  "No filth on the floor. I've spent a few days tied to poles, and you don't wait to shit if you have to."

  Ulfrik examined the man, who returned the same scrutiny. Though thin and old, his skin was not rough. His unshod feet were scabbed from going barefoot. Ulfrik grabbed the man's face, who did not resist, and squeezed open his mouth to reveal it still held most of the man's teeth. He let go, and the prisoner pulled away with a hint of disgust that drew a smirk to Ulfrik's face. His gaze dropped to the slave collar chaffing the old man's neck, and he noted despite the rust of the collar, bright metal showed where it had been clamped shut over his throat.

  Ulfrik stepped away, slipping on a deep red cloak lying on the floor. He kicked it aside, watching the man's eyes follow it. He emanated defiance and confidence; he reminded him of his wife, Runa, when he had first met her as a slave. The collar may have marked her as such, but her spirit suffered no enslavement.

  "So they had a slave, and a new one at that. He's not yet ready to accept Fate's judgment. Just look at those eyes." Ulfrik playfully slapped the slave's face. "You might be the best part of the treasure we take today."