Hero Born

by Andy Livingstone

  She paused and placed a hand on his arm, a gesture he was enjoying more each time it was made. ‘I know it is scant consolation to you – we know now of your true background – but it seems it did not sit well on Lord Einarr’s shoulders or those of many of his men.’

  Despite enjoying the physical contact, Brann felt awkward at her compassion, as if he were imposing worry upon her. ‘Do not be concerned about me,’ he countered lightly. He looked into her eyes. ‘There have been certain advantages to the way my life has gone.’

  She poked him in the chest with one finger. ‘You do not fool me, boy. No one gets much sympathy around here, so take it when you can get it. And do not think that your compliments will get you anywhere, either.’ But she could not hide the blush in her cheeks, or the smile in her eyes.

  ‘You seem to have heard a great deal about Einarr’s, er, Lord Einarr’s story,’ he observed.

  She smiled. ‘It is amazing how nobles forget who can hear what they are saying when they relax at mealtimes and there is a serving wench behind them.’

  ‘Perhaps that is why they use trusted families in these capacities,’ Brann pointed out.

  She laughed, and his heart jolted. ‘Perhaps it is. Anyhow, our Lord Einarr seems to think a lot of you so you could do worse than forge a living with him, if that was to your taste. Mind you,’ she poked his tattooed arm, ‘a few people seem to think highly of you, so you might have options.’

  Having overcome his surprise at finding the tattoo (though not yet accustomed to it) he began to be interested in the design itself. He pulled his arm from his sleeve and pulled up his tunic to allow him to examine it.

  The dragon, its folded wings enclosing it, sat atop a shield bearing the emblem of a bird. Without taking his eyes from it, he said quietly, ‘Tell me about it. What does it mean? Not just the design itself; what does it mean to have this put on you?’

  She led him to a nearby bench against the stone wall of the garden. ‘Sit here, and I will tell you. To answer your second question first, it is a great honour for courage in conflict, but also if that courage has done a service to this land or the people in it; it does not denote merely bravery for the sake of bravery itself. Only the warlord himself can grant it, and he decrees the basis of the design: the beast denotes his regard for your actions.’

  ‘So there are different levels to it?’

  She nodded. ‘It starts with the bear: a fierce and strong opponent. Greater than that is the wolf – not as strong as the bear, but more cunning, on its own or with others, and so a more dangerous foe. And the dragon,’ she traced it with her finger, raising goosepimples along his arm, ‘is the highest there is: the most formidable beast of lore, granted to signify an act by the bearer of the design that was considered by the warlord to be of the greatest benefit to our people and that is far beyond what would be expected of any ordinary individual. Konall and Hakon had their wolves bestowed publicly, but unfortunately you were still slumbering under the influence of your medication when this was done.’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘Their wolves? But they did as much as I did. In fact, they talked me through much of it. It is not fair that they were given only wolves.’

  ‘I would not say that to anyone else,’ she chided him. ‘To receive any of these is regarded as a true honour, and one rarely bestowed, so do not diminish that by referring to them as “only wolves”. There are many fine warriors who show great bravery over years of loyal service who are not awarded this, and the two boys were overcome to receive such acclaim. In your case, Lord Sigurr was impressed by the fact that you have come to this land against your will and yet you have repeatedly faced danger to help people from here, when you have no obligation at all to do so. And my brother and Konall disagreed with your assessment of what you did. I may be wrong, but I think the fact that it was you who faced, and saw off, Loku – they were impressed by that, by the way – and the fact that it was your plan that saved the warlord’s life, in fact the lives of the whole of his family, and saved his domain from falling under an evil and murderous rule, and the fact that you nearly died doing your utmost in carrying out that plan – I think that all of these may have had something to do with you receiving the dragon.’

  Brann laughed. ‘You make it sound very grand. All I did was be forced into situations where I had to react or die. But I suppose it had a good outcome. And I understand now the enormity of this huge picture on my arm, so I do feel quite honoured, I must admit.’ He looked at the design with renewed interest. ‘So tell me about this.’

  She smiled, contentedly, tracing the lines with her finger as she described each part. At the feeling he smiled even more contentedly, then forced himself to listen to her words.

  ‘Apart from the beast itself, each design is unique to the individual. Hakon and I created it for you. The raven emblem is the banner of our home town, and the hammer the dragon is holding in its tail is the symbol of Rakor, the blacksmith of the heavens and our god of war, who I pray will watch over you.’ She smiled. ‘I think it is quite nice, really.’

  Brann stared at it, still trying to become accustomed to it. ‘I suppose so,’ he admitted. ‘So what does the writing say?’

  Valdis stood up, brushing her skirt into shape. ‘You will have to ask my brother about that. It is just something to remember us by.’

  ‘Remember you by? I am not going anywhere soon.’

  ‘That is what you think, little wolf,’ said Hakon who had approached unseen by the enraptured Brann. ‘Lord Einarr’s ship is being provisioned as we speak, and his Lady will soon be aboard. His father has commissioned him to take a cargo of goods to the market in Sagia, so he is a reputable merchant once more – although I suspect he is also travelling as an emissary to the Emperor to discuss his stance on these matters that good old Loku has brought to our attention.’ He slapped Brann on the back with such gusto that the smaller boy almost fell forward. Oblivious to the dazed vision and spinning head that he had caused, he continued, ‘Anyhow, I am off to pack – and I suggest you do, too. These things tend to happen all of a sudden and we may not have much time. A couple of the former slaves have accepted offers of land from the warlord to start a new life here, but the rest have remained as crew members, either to serve as seamen under Lord Einarr or as a means of passage on their way back to their homes. Some of the local men have also signed up to fill the places of those who died in the fight, so that side of things is taken care of. I would guess we will sail as soon as the provisions and cargo have been stowed.’

  He grinned. ‘It is just as well you wakened this morning – you may have opened your eyes for the first time while at sea – without having been able to say your fond farewells.’ He looked mischievously at this sister, winked at Brann and sauntered off.

  ‘What does he mean: “we”?’ Brann asked, ignoring Hakon’s parting comments.

  ‘He means that he is one of the locals joining the crew,’ Valdis said simply, starting to lead him towards the building.

  Brann was surprised by her acceptance of the fact. ‘Are you not upset? Will you not miss him?’

  She stopped. ‘Our people are different from yours: the women must learn to fight in case they are needed alongside the men. Fighting with bears is a doorway to manhood, and our men all feel the urge at some point to take to the sea. We are used to it – in fact, we expect it.’ She paused. ‘But I will miss him, of course.’ She added pointedly as she started walking again, ‘I will miss you both.’

  Blushing, Brann blurted, ‘I know I will miss you.’

  She spun gracefully, and dropped into a light-hearted curtsy. ‘I am flattered, young sir, but you will have my brother to remind you. And this.’ She traced her fingers down his arm where his sleeve covered the tattoo once more. ‘And this.’ She bent forward and lightly kissed his cheek. For a moment her face became uncharacte‌ristically serious, her expression poignant, her fingertips lightly brushed the spot she had kissed. Then she spun on her heel.

&nbs
p; ‘Now come on – you heard Hakon. You had better pack.’

  ‘What’s the rush?’ he objected. ‘I have no possessions to take.’

  ‘You would be surprised,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘The warlord was very grateful, and Lord Einarr also felt that, now that you are officially his page – until you get home at least – you should look the part.’

  Back in his room, he discovered the truth of her words. Directed by the girl to a chest in the corner, he found clothes, including a heavy cloak and pair of leather gauntlets. What caught his eye above all, however, was, lying across the top of the clothing, a scabbarded short sword, plain in design but well-balanced in his hand when he drew it experimentally.

  ‘That is from the warlord,’ Valdis explained. ‘Made by his own blacksmith. The clothes were sent by Lord Einarr, and Lord Konall left you a boot knife. He said it was always good to have something in reserve. And my brother insisted you had this.’ She lifted the cloak with a quizzical look. ‘Though why a new one would not have been better, I don’t know. This one has even been ripped, here at the hem. Look, you can see the stitches.’

  Brann took it from her, his fingers unerringly finding the repair. He smiled but, before he could say anything, shouts echoed through the corridor outside his door, urging all who were travelling to meet in the main hall immediately. Hurriedly, Valdis helped him to store the clothes in a canvas bag that had been left beside them. He strapped on the sword and swung the heavy cloak around his shoulders – it was quicker than trying to cram it into the bag.

  He hesitated before they left the room. Valdis looked back at him urgently, her expression urging him on.

  ‘It just seems so quick,’ he said faintly. ‘There does not seem to be a chance to say goodbye properly.’

  To his embarrassment, he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

  ‘I know,’ she said seriously. ‘But I said my goodbye in the garden. And my thoughts and prayers will go with you whether we take three breaths or three days to bid each other farewell.’

  He smiled. ‘Should I not take a favour as a token from a beautiful lady?’

  Her eyes smiled back at him. ‘My favour you will take with you wherever you go, whether you like it or not. It is here,’ she touched his arm, ‘in the words around your arm.’

  He started to ask her again what the runes said, the lettering being different from that used in his homeland, but he was drowned out by fresh, more urgent, shouts in the passageway.

  Grabbing his hand, she dragged him and they set off at a run to the hall, where they found Konall and Hakon among those gathering. The large room was almost filled, the former slaves having been brought up from their billet, and with those who were bidding farewell to the local crew members adding to the numbers in the room.

  Above the hubbub, Brann thanked Konall for the knife.

  His face as straight as ever, the tall boy said, ‘I was going to give you a bow, but I thought it would be safer for your companions if you had a knife instead. As long as you do not try to throw it, that is.’

  Gerens and Grakk pushed through the crowds to join them but, before they could speak, the warlord – flanked by Einarr and Ragnarr – swept into the room, prompting a hush to fall over those assembled.

  ‘It seems,’ Sigurr said, his voice quiet but clear in every corner, ‘that no sooner has my son returned to me than he is leaving again. But his absence will lend more time to repair relations with our neighbours in anticipation of his next return. And at least he brought us a little excitement while he was here.’ Laughter rippled around the crowded room. ‘I do not intend to keep you long here, for the water is calm and you will be eager to make the most of that while it lasts, but I would like to say that it pleases me greatly that, during your visit, I saw enslaved men freed – and deservedly so. Having witnessed you in battle, and speaking as a warrior, I am glad and relieved that you are on our side.

  ‘In that respect, as I bid farewell to my son, my nephew,’ he looked across at Konall, and Brann started in surprise at the realisation that he, too, would be sailing with them, ‘and to those others of my people who are choosing to leave here for this voyage, I do so knowing that they are in the company of the finest of men.

  ‘I bid you a safe voyage and look forward to your return.’

  A resounding cheer rocked the room, and Brann found himself infected with the emotion of the moment. Valdis quickly hugged him and her brother before ushering them to join the others leaving the room. They made their way to the harbour, the streets lined with cheering crowds and windows filled with those seeking a better vantage point. Brann grinned at the group around him.

  ‘I almost feel important,’ he shouted above the noise.

  ‘Enjoy it – it will be quiet enough at sea by comparison,’ Gerens pointed out.

  Konall could be seen working his way back to them from the head of the procession. Brann had not been the only one who noticed the young noble’s significant decision to stand within the body of the men in the hall, rather than, as would previously have been the case, at the side of his father as Sigurr made his speech. However, he had been signalled to take his place with the other nobles at the head of what was almost a ceremonial parade to the docks.

  Konall reached them. ‘My uncle would like a quick departure once we get to the ship. All has been safely stowed already, so it will be a matter of getting on board and starting to row straight away.

  ‘There will be more crew than there are rowing places, though, so you’ll be split into teams of three and put on a rota. Cannick is working his way back, informing everyone of who they are with and who will be rowing first.

  ‘Around here, we are all sailors so everyone will play their part at the oars. I am told that Einarr, Cannick and myself will be excused rowing, but I intend to remedy that once we are at sea – the inactivity would drive me insane otherwise.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he headed back towards the front of the column. By the time they reached the ship, each man knew what was expected of him; Brann, to his delight, had been teamed with Gerens and Hakon and, through happy coincidence – or perhaps through Cannick’s design – he was back on his old familiar bench. Grakk was with another former slave on the bench in front of them, the pair having been chosen to partner a local man who, like Hakon, was perhaps an experienced sailor but who had never before sat on a three-man rowing bench. Brann was quietly amused that he himself was now considered experienced.

  Even as they were settling into their seats, the ship was untied and pushed from the jetty. Feeling strange at the lack of chains around his ankles, Brann advised Hakon to follow his lead as the order was given to release the oars. Within seconds, the ship was sweeping around to face up the fjord and pulling away through the dark, deep and calm water.

  Brann had stared intently at the crowd as they turned and had been rewarded with a sight of the girl in the long green dress. The vision was fixed in his mind as he pulled at the oar beside her brother, and reminded him that Valdis had directed his final query about his tattoo to towards Hakon.

  Hakon glanced at him. ‘Interesting rowing style,’ he observed, referring to Brann’s use of the box that Grakk had arranged to be fixed to the floor for him to brace his feet against as he half stood and pulled at the oar. ‘Not trying to attract anyone’s attention in particular, are you?’

  Brann grinned. ‘It is the only way you can do it when you do not have the approved length of legs. And, on the subject of your sister: she said you would tell me what the words are that my arm is forced to bear.’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Hakon said, feigning indifference. ‘It is nothing much, just something she said you should remember. I cannot really remember.’

  ‘Tell me or you will find yourself at the other end of the oar,’ Brann growled.

  ‘All right, I relent,’ Hakon conceded. ‘It should mean much to you: it meant much to my sister, and you seem to mean much to her.

  ‘It says: “Dare to dream. Trust y
our heart. Let your soul fly.”’

  Brann smiled faintly. As the words repeated in his mind, he saw Valdis’s lips forming them.

  Dare to dream. Trust your heart. Let your soul fly.

  He knew not where he was headed. He knew not what awaited him. He knew not how he would cope with it. But, as he pulled himself closer to it with every sweep of the oar, he knew that what he took with him was a dream he could cling to, could nurture. And could return to.

  ****

  He awoke with a start. The angle of the glare through the window spoke of noon.

  He jumped once again as he turned to see her standing there, staring into his soul.

  The voice as dry as the desert rasped.

  ‘He is coming.’

  Epilogue

  The storyteller drew breath. His piercing eyes swept around the chamber, the torchlight dancing on the rapt faces of the villagers.

  ‘Now you know. Now that story is told. Now you know the beginning. But I am not so young in years as once I was, and my strength is not the strength of my youth. If some kind soul will fetch me a supper, I will retire for the moment.

  ‘While I am finished for this night, however, the tale goes on.

  ‘You have heard how the hero was born. If you would hear more, return with me on the morrow. Return with me, and hear him grow.’

  Acknowledgements

  We all have dreams, and sometimes we get lucky and one of them comes true.

  I got lucky.