Viking Warband

by Griff Hosker

  “I will come with you this time Jarl Dragonheart. Haaken One Eye endured it once. It is my turn.”

  “No, Olaf. You are a brave warrior but the witch wants one thing, me. I must exchange my life for Sámr. I have lived long enough. I have done enough. Haaken, you command until you return to Whale Island.”

  He nodded. They all gave the silent agreement. They knew I was right. Ulla War Cry and Mordaf grabbed my legs, “You cannot leave!”

  “I must. Sámr gave his life for you Ulla War Cry. I can do no less for him.” I held up my hand, “Let us row to the island. Jarl Dragonheart will descend, once more to the bowels of the earth. It has been both an honour and a privilege to lead such a Viking warband. No jarl ever led better warriors.”

  They knew I was going to my death and they began banging the deck with the hilts of their daggers.

  “To your oars!”

  It was almost a funereal pace as we edged across the glassy sea to the smoking island. To protect me I had my sword and dagger. Around my neck I had the dragon and the wolf. The Allfather had had a purpose when he had sent me from the Dunum to Norway. He had made my sword the most powerful in the world. I had to trust that he would protect my great grandson and, if I deserved it, me.

  We reached the beach. Erik and Haaken had done this before. Lars leapt ashore. I felt that was an incredibly brave thing to do but he and Sámr were ship brothers. It was what you did. He wrapped the rope around a rock to keep her bow on. I took off my sea boots and jumped into the water. It was bone chillingly cold. I knew the path I must take. I walked on the virgin sand and headed behind the large rocks. It was as all the other times I had descended.

  I entered the black maw that was the cave. This was not like Myrddyn’s cave. That had a wide entrance and a high roof. This one felt like you were descending into a tiny grave. It was hard to put one foot in front of the other but I somehow managed it. There was a glow but it was not as bright as it normally was. The smoke I could smell was old and it was dead. I had to watch my footing for the stones were slick. As I turned the corner I saw that the fire had not been doused. It was a soft red glow. I took a breath as I stepped around and peered into the dark.

  I heard a cackle, “I will say this for you, Dragonheart, you truly have the heart of a dragon. You know that you come to your enemy. You believe, in your heart, that you will never leave this cave alive and yet still you come.”

  “The last time you took my granddaughter, Ylva, and now you take my great grandson. You are a barren old crone who cannot conceive herself. It is sad that you have to steal my children to gratify yourself.” I could not see her but I felt her presence.

  The cackling laughter came from closer to me, “Not only fearless but reckless. You risk my ire and insult me. If I did not know that your mother worshipped our cult I would swear that you had sprung from my womb!”

  “Enough of this. I am here to exchange my life for Sámr. I know you have him. I can now almost smell your magic! Where is he?”

  The laughter was gone and the voice was filled with contempt, “You are a mortal and cannot fathom the mind and the plans of a Norn! You know nothing of this! You stole that which we wanted and one day there will be vengeance. Some day you will suffer such terror that it will drive you mad and then we will be satisfied. For the moment you serve our purposes. You are here to do our bidding. Do not command me! I command you!”

  The cave suddenly filled with red. It was a mixture of fire and smoke. I could see nothing save red. It was as though blood had become smoke. The heat was all around me. I was burning. It was the heat of a dragon! The witch had conjured a worm to end my life. I began to cough. My eyes watered. The heat became so intense that I felt as though I would melt. Then I struggled to breathe. It was as though the smoke or the dragon or the witch, I knew not which, were strangling me. I flailed my arms but there was nothing to grab. I tried to fight but I was fighting smoke and heat. I found myself falling and the light went. It became black.

  I was falling. My arms flailed. I saw Sámr. He was bound to a stake and, at his feet a fire burned. All went black. I opened my eyes and drew my sword. I looked beneath my feet. It was not sand. It was blood covered bodies. They stretched as far as the eye could see. They were Vikings. Most of them were Danes and I did not recognise them. They were not my clan. There were shattered spears and broken shields. I walked across them. Some were still alive for they moaned as I passed. Their bodies were slippery. I looked up and saw a shield wall. It was a Saxon shield wall. There was a king. He had a crown and next to him was a queen. I saw him put the crown upon her head. It was Osburga’s crown. This was King Æthelwulf and his Queen, Osburga. He turned and, seeing me, began to laugh. I found that I was sinking into the dead and dying bodies. They were like human quicksand. The more I struggled the quicker I sank. My waist was beneath them. As my head slipped down I found myself drowning in dead men’s blood. I closed my mouth and then my body was beneath the dead. I could not breathe. All went black.

  “Jarl Dragonheart! Great Grandfather! Wake! What is happening?”

  I opened my eyes. I still held Ragnar’s Spirit. I was in the cave. There was a dull glow from a dying fire and Sámr sat, cradling my head. I smiled, “You have been to the Otherworld and you have survived. After this there is nothing for you to fear. Come, help an old man to his feet. We will talk when we are outside.”

  “But how do we get out? We are trapped!”

  “Trust Ragnar’s Spirit. It will find a way.” I held my magic blade before me and I held Sámr’s hand with my other. There was a glow from the blade. Some would say it was a reflection from the glow of the fire but I knew that it was the Allfather. I saw a lighter patch of dark and we walked towards it. The light became lighter and then we stepped out of the tomb like cave. It was morning. As we walked into the sand I saw ‘Heart of the Dragon’ . She was bobbing at anchor. The crew saw us and gave a cheer. They chanted, ‘Dragonheart’. We had survived. The Norns would punish me but only when I had done their bidding.

  Chapter 9

  A breeze sprang from the north west and Erik wasted no time in hoisting the sail and getting us away from the enchanted isle. Atticus brought a cloak for Sámr. His wide eyes were filled with terror. No one said a word. There were questions in men’s eyes but none dared speak. After they had set the sail the ship’s boys came to see Sámr. Lars gently touched him as though he might disappear. Haaken handed me a horn of ale and Olaf gave one to Sámr. We raised them to each other and we drank. The two of us were bound now.

  Erik shouted, from the stern, “The island has gone! It has vanished beneath the waves.”

  Atticus dropped to his knees and clutched his cross. He began to chant in Greek. For the first time in his life he had experienced the supernatural. I smiled at Sámr. He held my hand still. “Now you can speak. Tell me what you saw.”

  He shook his head, “You would not believe me! I saw it and I do not believe it.”

  Ulla War Cry blurted out, “You were drowned!”

  “I thought I was. I found myself being dragged down. I sank to the bottom of the sea. When I looked I saw that I was held by the weed which clings to the rocks but I could not free myself. I pulled and then I banged my head. I dreamed or perhaps I went to the Otherworld.” He shook his head. “I know not.”

  I said, quietly, “Just tell what you saw, what you smelled, what you heard and what you said.”

  He looked at me, startled. “How do you know?”

  “Just speak.”

  “I was in a hall. There were three women. They were not pretty like my mother or Ebrel. They were not kind looking like my grandmother or Great Aunt Kara. They had eyes which burned. They had talons for fingers and they had no flesh on their bones. Their hair was made up of writhing snakes. When they spoke, their words felt like ice. Their lips did not move but I heard their words. They chanted and told me that the Dragonheart must lead the Danes.”

  I leaned forward, “Tell me exactly what were the
words they chanted. It is important.”

  He closed his eyes and when he began to chant it was as though the words were being spoken by someone else for it was not his voice.

  The Dragonheart has a mighty sword

  He is known to keep his word

  When the Danes ask to lead their spears

  He must put aside his Danish fears

  His sword will make the Saxons shake

  He will live but the Danes will break

  Viking deaths are not the worst

  If he fails to lead then the clan is cursed

  He looked up at me. “I remembered every word! How did I do that?”

  “You did not. You were bewitched.” He looked afraid. “Fear not, when we are home Kara and Aiden will cure you.”

  Haaken asked, “And your dream, Jarl Dragonheart?”

  I shook my head, “I will wait until I tell Kara but it confirms what Sámr said. I have no choice now. I must lead the Danish ships. There is no alternative. It may mean my doom but I cannot have my family and clan cursed.”

  Sámr nodded, “The old witch,” he shivered, “she stroked my hair with her talon and said that you dared not spoil their web again. She said I would die in a pit of snakes.” He threw his arms around me. “Please!”

  “Fear not. I know now what I have to do. This is not of my making. It is not my choice but I cannot allow innocents to suffer because of me. I cannot fathom their plan. Perhaps it is just mischief but I will go along with them for the good of the clan.”

  The crew left me alone as we headed east to Bruggas. I could do nothing about the Norns. Whoever I took with me to Lundenwic would have to know that they would, in all likelihood, die. Who would choose to follow me? One thing was certain. My grandsons and great grandsons would not be in the crew. I ran through my ships to choose the one which had the smallest crew. The Norns had given me an impossible task. I did not mind Danes dying but how could I allow men of my clan to die for them?

  When we neared Bruggas I saw that they had built beacons to mark the entrance to the port. It made Erik’s task easier. It was late by the time we had navigated the tidal estuary and so we slept aboard. We had time enough to visit Isaac and await the Danes. We were the only drekar in port. It was winter and journeys were harder. I set a good watch but I did not sleep well. When I spoke with the son of Ragnar Lodbrok would I be foresworn? I knew that the raid we planned would end in the deaths of many Danes. I could not walk away. The Danes expected me to lead them and the Norns had willed it. Whatever I did would not end well.

  When I woke I made sure that my offspring remained on the drekar. I had come close to losing two of them. Haraldr, Haaken and Olaf would accompany me to Isaac’s, Raibeart would go to the market. I wore my mail. I think I feared a killer. I knew not why. Olaf and Haaken always wore their mail. There was a calm reassurance about Haraldr. He was the least experienced of us and yet he seemed so calm that it inspired confidence. Wyrd . As we passed ‘The Saddle’, Sven was throwing out a drunk. Freya was behind him. She saw me and rushed out. Throwing her arms around me she kissed me. “Jarl Dragonheart! At last we have a real man in this town!”

  I hugged her and smiled, “You are kind to an old man!”

  “Kindness does not enter into it. We hear how you dealt with those raiders to your land. You are a true leader and Viking. Is it true that you will raid Lundenwic?”

  I felt a chill on my neck. If an ale wife in Bruggas knew of the attack how much more would the Saxons know?

  “We will be here for a few days. I would brew more ale. The Danes are coming.”

  She nodded. “We had been warned. That means you raid with the sons of Ragnar Lodbrok.” She lowered her voice. “Be careful Jarl Dragonheart they are like their father. They are treacherous.”

  I put my arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “I am not a young innocent warrior. I know what they are like. I go into this with both eyes open.”

  She had old eyes. They were older than her body. She saw all of life in her ale house. There was wisdom there. I doubted that she could read. Making marks on a wax tablet was not the same as reading but she had something better. She had knowledge. Her eyes bored into mine. “I will have food ready when you have completed your business with old Isaac.”

  I laughed, “Do you know all and see all?”

  “In Bruggas? Yes. This is my town.”

  It was a damp day. The drizzle had flecks of sleet in it. I was grateful for my seal skin cape. We did not have as long to wait when we knocked on the door of Isaac the Jew. The same warriors admitted the four of us. Isaac was in his cushioned seat poring over a parchment. A warming fire made the room cosy. He smiled when he saw me. “You came to the day. I like precision. Most of the Vikings I deal with spend so long drunk that time means nothing to them. You are different. You know that time is as valuable as gold and must not be wasted.”

  “Was the trade successful?”

  His face became serious, “It was and we received a good price but I should warn you, Dragonheart of the Land of the Wolf, Æthelwulf has put a price on your head.” He rolled his eyes, “Literally, your head. Five hundred talents are promised to whoever brings him your head.” He waved a hand at my three men. “You are wise to surround yourself with such men. And the books brought a good price. We sold those to a Count of the Franks. He had a monastery he was going to endow. These Christians have a strange religion. Their leader was a poor carpenter and yet they think they can buy their way to heaven.” He shrugged. “It makes money for us both. Oddvakr, fetch the chest with the coin.”

  One of the warriors left the room. “Tell me, Isaac of Bruggas, what do you hear of a Danish raid on Lundenwic.”

  He gave me a cunning smile, “Do not try to use guile Dragonheart it is not in your nature. You mean the raid you are to lead?” I nodded. “The Danes have been using your name all along the western coasts. There are many who wish to follow your magical sword. If you are asking me do the Saxons know then the answer is yes. I am no warrior but even if I was a warrior as great as you I would not undertake this venture.”

  Oddvakr returned with the chest. “I am afraid that I have no choice in this matter.”

  “All men have choices, Jarl Dragonheart.”

  I opened the box and put my hands to the bottom. I brought out golden coins. Satisfied I closed the lid. I waved my hand at the house in which he lived, “And you chose to live here in this damp and dangerous part of Frisia instead of a warm, lemon fragranced garden by the Blue Sea?”

  His eyes became sad, “I was driven out by the ones who follow Islam. It is not the same.”

  “It is, Isaac of Bruggas. Both of our Fates are determined by others and we follow the course that was set out for us. All that we can do is the best with what is given us. We both survive and we both do well. That is all that a man can do.”

  He stood, “I can see why you have lived so long, Jarl Dragonheart. May God watch over you. I hope that you survive and that we can do business again. We trust each other, I think.”

  I clasped his outstretched arm, “We trust each other.”

  Haraldr carried the chest. We had seen other warriors in the streets on our way to Isaac’s but now that we knew there was a price on my head there was an air of danger. We went directly to the drekar. We secured the chest in the hold. Raibeart and the other merchants had not returned and so we waited with Erik and the crew. Sámr, Ulla, Mordaf and Lars sat together. They seemed almost afraid to be out of each other’s sight.

  “Haraldr, I would have you watch those four. We will send you food and ale from the ‘Saddle’.”

  He bowed his head, “It would be an honour Jarl Dragonheart. Young Sámr is made of good stock. To have survived the sea and,” he clutched the amulet around his neck, “and the witch.” He shook his head, “How can any man fight the spirits?”

  Haaken One Eye rubbed his thinning, white hair, “It is not easy, Haraldr but the Allfather favours the Dragonheart. When he fights them, he is no
t alone.”

  Raibeart returned and he and the others had serious expressions on their faces. “Was it poor trading, Raibeart ap Pasgen?”

  “The trading was good but the news was not. Æthelwulf has put a price on your head. He was outraged that you almost took his wife. The rumour is that she is now guarded by ten housecarls. She and the King’s sons never leave his burgh in Wintan-Caestre. It is good that you wear your mail. The price would tempt many poor men to end your life.”

  Olaf Leather Neck growled, “And they would have to get past me to do so!”

  I did not want men to die for me. I had to find a way out of this dilemma. “Come, half of us will go to the ‘Saddle’ now. I am hungry and ready for a drink.” I looked at the four ship’s boys. “Do you wish to come? If you do not then Haraldr can watch over you.”

  They looked at each other. Sámr said, “If you do not mind, Jarl Dragonheart, we are content here. My mind is too full of thoughts and the noise of the ale house would be too confusing.” He looked up at Haraldr. “Besides Haraldr has good stories to tell of life in Lang’s Dale

  “Perhaps that is what you need. Do not dwell on the cave.”

  “I have to. I need to understand what it means and what I must do. Be careful.”

  “Thank you, son of Ragnar, it is good that you think of an old man.”

  When we entered the alehouse, Freya had cleared a table for us. “Here to celebrate, Jarl? Old Isaac gave you much gold I hear.”

  “And no doubt your prices will reflect our success.”

  “Of course. We are a small town and we help each other.” She leaned closer and spoke into my ear, “And we listen out for those who would be a knife in the night. When I hear of anything then I will let you know.”

  The food was good; it was hot and hearty. It was perfect for such a damp day and the ale, warmed with a poker, flowed freely. None of us drank as much as we wished. Until I was safe in Cyninges-tūn I would be on my guard. The days were short still and we left the ale house in the dark. Sven checked the street before we left. We did not ask him to do so. He nodded, “The ones on the street I know. They might be beggars and thieves but they are not killers. Freya has put the word out. We will hear of those who might wish you harm.”