Summer of the Viking

by Michelle Styles

  ‘And you are sure you saw the dragon ship here?’ he asked Oswald, who sat on a nearby rock, copying Valdar’s every move.

  Since his trip to the cove, he found Oswald had become his shadow. First secretly following him about and then more openly. Valdar found little jobs for him to do in exchange for his teaching him how to use a sword. There was a hunger in the lad to be a warrior. Valdar silently promised that he would make sure he reached his goal. Precisely how he would accomplish this, he wasn’t sure.

  The boy nodded. ‘Why does no one believe me?’

  ‘It helps when you have a reputation for telling the truth. Once it is lost, it takes time to recover, but it can be done. I have seen it happen many times. You need to show everyone that you are a man of honour. Eventually they will believe because you believe. Or so my father once told me.’

  Valdar realised with a start that he could apply the same logic here, if he found Girmir and dispatched him. Alwynn would never have to know.

  Oswald’s eyes shone. ‘You once told tall tales?’

  ‘I was a boy like you. Far from here, but I, too, wanted things to be exciting. Then I learnt that hard work can have its own rewards.’

  ‘When I grow up I want to be a warrior. I want to fight in battles and gain glory. I don’t want to have to grind corn.’

  ‘There is more to life than glory. Men need to eat.’

  ‘You can say that because you live somewhere else, not this backwater of a place.’

  ‘Where I live is not so very different from this place. The people are the same. They want to live their lives without being molested.’

  ‘And where is that?’

  Something stuck in Valdar’s throat. His lie was one of omission. And every day it seemed to get bigger. It didn’t help that Raumerike felt like a dream. Northumbria was far more real. He cared about its people. One person. More than he thought possible. And if she discovered the truth, any feelings she had for him would turn to dust. ‘A long way from here. Across the sea.’

  ‘Have you ever battled the Northmen?’

  He gave a laugh and ruffled the boy’s hair, but his insides clenched. Lately he had told so many half-truths. And his heritage didn’t matter. It was how he lived his life now. ‘When the occasion demanded it.’

  ‘And you survived?’

  ‘They are men like any other.’

  Oswald frowned. ‘I thought the raid on Lindisfarne was the first time anyone had heard of the barbarians from the North. And I know all the names of the men who fought during St Cuthbert’s storm. Yours was not amongst them.’

  ‘Maybe here, but where I come from, no. We had heard of them.’ Valdar looked out at the shimmering sea. ‘Describe precisely what you saw the other day. I need to know every single detail. How many men do you think you saw? Can you describe any of them?’

  Oswald began to recite his story again. Valdar listened intently. Somewhere in the boy’s retelling would be the clue he needed to prevent a massacre.

  The boy broke off his monologue and pointed. ‘Tell me you see it.’

  ‘See what?’

  He pointed towards the horizon. ‘A sail.’

  Valdar tightened his grip on his sword. He could see something which might be a sail, but it was far too early to tell. ‘Good lad. You have excellent eyes. What shape is it?’

  ‘What do we do now? Meet them at the shore?’

  ‘We wait. We watch. We see what sort of sail it is. It might not be a Northman’s sail at all. Running off to tell everyone can just lead to people thinking you don’t speak the truth. Wait until you know for certain.’

  Beside him, the boy quivered with a combination of excitement and fear. Valdar knew the same nervous anticipation ran through his veins. Like Oswald, he wanted it to be a Northman. He wanted it to be Girmir.

  He could do this. He could vanquish Girmir and there would be no reason for anyone to know the truth of his origins.

  He could lead a new life with Alwynn, one where he would build a hall on this bluff, have many strong sons and lead a life as a pillar of the community. The gods had granted him a second chance and he intended to grab it.

  ‘It’s not a Northman’s sail,’ Oswald cried out and collapsed back down to the ground. ‘It is just a Northumbrian fishing boat. They would have really laughed at me if I had gone running to the village.’

  ‘Some day it will be, Oswald.’ Valdar gripped his sword. ‘And we will be ready.’

  * * *

  ‘Why did I have to come out here?’ Merri kicked a stone and sent it skittering into a mud pool. ‘Looking after Purebright takes time, you know.’

  ‘We need to find Urien. I don’t like this any better than you do,’ Alwynn explained for the fifth time.

  ‘Valdar could have done it.’ Merri became mutinous. ‘It is too hot.’

  ‘He has other duties.’ Alwynn concentrated on the road. The heat shimmered off the rough stones.

  ‘Do you think Lord Edwin will be back soon? Oswald says...’

  Alwynn stopped in the middle of the road. Oswald again. ‘I have no idea and neither does Oswald. His tale-telling has become out of control. He has everyone running about like headless chickens.’

  ‘Are you angry with me?’

  Alwynn winced. She had given vent to her frustration over Valdar and the heat. ‘No, sweetling, just tired. The heat makes me cross.’

  ‘It makes everyone cross.’ Merri sniffed. ‘I can smell burning.’

  ‘What sort of burning?’

  Merri pointed. ‘There is smoke. It is coming from Cleofirth’s farm. I know it is. It is the only farm over that way.’

  Alwynn’s mouth went dry.

  ‘Raiders?’ Merri whispered.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Merri. Everyone has Northmen on the brain,’ Gode said. ‘It will be Urien. She will have found her husband in bed with that tramp from the village and her mind will have snapped.’

  ‘Whatever it is, they need our help.’ Alwynn began to run.

  ‘Why you are going this way? We should go back to the gristmill and get Valdar,’ Merri said. ‘I bet he is good at fighting fires.’

  Alwynn stopped. Everyone seemed to have forgotten who had saved this estate in the first place. ‘Let’s get a bit closer. If we need to, you can go. You know the short way.’

  They crept closer. From a small crest above the farm, they could see the barn and the house were ablaze. It was far worse than she had thought. Could Gode have been right? Was Urien capable of such a deed?

  A woman’s scream tore the stillness.

  Alwynn put a hand on Merri’s shoulder, preventing her from going closer. ‘Go and fetch Valdar now. Tell him to bring his sword.’

  ‘What is going on?’

  ‘I don’t know, but you were right. Valdar needs to be here. We need his help.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Alwynn bit her lip. Had all this happened because she took Urien away? But she couldn’t have left her here, not with the bruising to her face and her admission of guilt. ‘Go now! Once Valdar is here, we can decide, but I can’t do this on my own. I need his sword arm.’

  Just as she had hoped, Merri ran without looking back. Alwynn breathed a little easier. Whatever was going on here, Merri was out of it and safe.

  ‘Valdar will arrive soon.’

  ‘It depends on whether or not you can count on his help,’ Gode muttered.

  ‘What do you mean by that? Valdar is not an enemy.’ Alwynn knew her cheeks burnt bright red. She had to hope Gode didn’t know that he had made love to her. ‘He is my steward.’

  ‘He is also one of them.’

  ‘One of whom?’

  ‘One of the Northmen raiders!’ The words burst from Gode.

  Alwynn’s stomach churned. Of course that was nonsense. Gode had been the one to cause this by falling asleep. ‘Impossible. You are wrong. It is wicked of you to say such a thing. You could cost Valdar his life. He is a stranger, yes,
but not all strangers are Northmen.’

  ‘He and I made a bargain. He’d keep my secret. I’d keep his.’ Gode crossed her arms. ‘I never thought he’d do this. We have been harbouring a viper in our midst, my lady, a viper.’

  Alwynn didn’t believe Gode. He couldn’t be a Northman. He was from Raumerike, somewhere in the Frankish lands. He had a Frankish sword and he’d looked properly horrified about the Lindisfarne raid. True, she’d never seen him go to church, but that didn’t mean anything. Work on the estate had kept him busy. And anyway, her father had stopped going after her brother died. And Northmen carried double axes, not Frankish swords.

  But then there were the tiny insistent doubts, the things she should have questioned. How did he know what Northmen did or how they raided? Who had he prayed to in his fever? Even now, her mind shied away. He was unlike any Northman she had ever heard of. Had she been taken in again? Had she trusted the wrong person?

  ‘Is this true, Gode? Tell me, please tell me the truth.’

  Gode hung her head. ‘Yes, my lady. I didn’t want to worry you and he was only one man. Plus, he seemed like a good man.’

  ‘I don’t have time for this now. Believe me, Gode, when I say—Valdar is no Northman.’ As she said the words, Alwynn prayed she was right. ‘He would have told me if he was. But he has done so much good here. Everyone says so.’

  ‘He is a Northman. I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘And what secret did he keep for you in return?’

  Gode looked down and paused before taking a deep breath. ‘I’m ill, my lady. I’m dying. The monks have confirmed it. I didn’t want to worry you when you had so many things to take care of.’

  Alwynn’s heart knocked against her chest. It would explain Gode’s slight yellowish colour and why she had been moving so slowly. She kicked herself for not questioning Gode more closely.

  ‘Gode, no! This can’t be happening. We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I have a farm to save. And some outlaws to catch.’

  ‘As you say, my lady...’

  ‘And I am not going to do anything. I am just going to watch and make an assessment of the situation.’

  Alwynn crept closer with Gode following hot on her heels. The fire had taken hold. But no one seemed to be fighting it. An eerie silence hung over the yard.

  ‘Urien! This is not the way!’

  The echo ran about a silent farmyard, mocking her.

  ‘My lady,’ Gode whispered. ‘There is something about this place that I don’t like. We should go. Come back with men. You can do nothing about this fire by yourself.’

  Then she saw them, off to the right and nearly out of the farmyard. The raiders. Northmen. She could no longer tell herself it was outlaws. The men were dressed in a motley gear and speaking a foreign tongue. Her heart knocked. Since when did outlaws speak in a foreign tongue? Or brandish double axes?

  She wiped her hands against her gown. Valdar was from the North. Of course he was. The ship with the broken mast. It made sense. He had known what was hidden in that cove and he had distracted her. She had silenced every single doubt because she’d believed in him, in a person who didn’t exist. This raiding, this was his reality.

  She’d been such a fool.

  Steadily she began to back away, hoping against hope that in the confusion no one had seen her.

  A crunch of footsteps behind her made her pause.

  ‘Valdar,’ she whispered. ‘Please let it be you.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘This way, Oswald! A slicing motion.’ Valdar showed the boy how to make the correct movement with his sword for the third time. After the incident with the fishing boat, Valdar was keeping half an eye on the cove. Girmir would return here, he was sure of it. It was the perfect spot for conducting raids. When he did, Valdar would be ready for him and his murderous crew.

  That boy, Eirik—why now could he remember his name?—would never have given up the sunstone readily. Valdar’s blood ran cold to think about what must have happened to him. All he knew was that he had to prevent Girmir and his gang of mutineers from harming anyone else.

  ‘A sword is not a pitchfork. Do not attempt to prod people with it. Now you try it. Slowly and carefully.’

  ‘Valdar! Valdar! There is trouble at Cleofirth the Plough’s farm.’ Lady Merri entered the glade at a run. ‘Come quickly. There is a fire.’

  Oswald dropped the sword with a loud clang. ‘Can’t you see Valdar is teaching me to be a warrior?’ he proclaimed.

  ‘Oswald, son of Oswy, so help me...’ Merri drew back her fist.

  ‘You will never become a fine lady if you go around punching warriors.’

  ‘Hush, Oswald. A warrior always listens to a fair lady in distress.’

  ‘Cleofirth the Plough’s farm is on fire.’

  ‘Where is Lady Alwynn?’

  ‘She has gone there with Gode. Urien escaped and now the farmhouse is ablaze.’ Tears ran down Merri’s face. ‘I am so worried. I should be there. I should be helping. But my stepmother sent me here.’

  ‘Lady Alwynn is sensible. Return to the hall with Oswald. He can protect you.’

  Both looked aghast at the prospect.

  ‘It is what needs doing.’ Valdar glared at them both. ‘Oswald, you protect Lady Merewynn. It is what a warrior would do—protect a fair maiden. And, Merewynn, you stay out of harm’s way. Behave like a lady.’

  ‘Fighting fires is easy,’ Merri said with her bottom lip poking out. ‘I can throw water on a fire. There was one Oswald made two weeks ago which blazed out of control until I threw a bucket of water on it.’ She paused. ‘You won’t tell my stepmother, will you? She doesn’t approve of such things.’

  ‘If you stay with Oswald, I will keep my lips sealed,’ Valdar said with a smile.

  ‘Shall I raise the alarm with my father?’ Oswald asked. ‘He and the other villagers will want to help. Lady Merewynn could stay with my mother.’

  ‘Yes, that is a good idea. We will need many hands to deal with a fire.’

  Valdar set off at a run. Silently he prayed that Alwynn had not done anything stupid. Fire was nothing to play around with. The thought of her being there alone, battling the blaze, made his legs move faster.

  He ran quicker than he thought possible and soon reached Cleofirth’s farm. The fire blazed out of control. Slaughtered animal carcasses littered the ground. The pit of his stomach tightened. There was only one person who would have done this. He prayed to any god who might be listening that Alwynn had fled.

  He spotted the body of an old woman nestled in the hollow of a tree and knew his prayers would be unanswered. He gently shook her shoulder. ‘Gode? Are you alive?’

  She opened her eyes. ‘You were right, Northman. I should have told her sooner about the pains in my stomach. My race is nearly run.’

  ‘Where is Alwynn? Has she gone into the farmhouse?’

  ‘Other Northmen. Not like you. Rotten to the core those lot. I waited for you. I hid.’ Each word was said with a laboured breath. ‘Find her. Keep her safe.’

  ‘I’m here now and I will. I promise.’

  Valdar tried to hold his fears at bay. The stakes were far greater than any battle he’d encountered before and the only way to win was to keep a cool head.

  He knew in that instant that destroying Girmir and his men was as much about protecting his future with Alwynn as it was about honouring his past.

  ‘Alwynn!’ he called. ‘Alwynn, where are you?’

  For three heartbeats there was no answer, then he heard her scream off to his right. But it was the sound of the other voice which sent a chill down his spine.

  Girmir. A deep calm filled Valdar. He felt the peace. It happened every time before a battle. And this fight would be the most important of his life. The knowledge rocked him.

  Valdar drew his sword and rushed forward. The tableau was spread out in front of him. Girmir had slung Alwynn over his shoulder. The other mutinous members of the felag were loaded down with de
ad sheep, sacks of grain and a barrel of ale. He looked in vain to see if any of them might support him.

  ‘Not a very good haul!’ he called. ‘Is this what I sacrificed myself for?’

  ‘Valdar?’ Alwynn squeaked.

  ‘Put the woman down and leave this place!’ he thundered.

  Girmir and the remainder of the felag went pale. Several backed up. Shock and consternation filled their faces.

  ‘A shade from the past!’ someone shouted. ‘The gods have sent a warning.’

  ‘Why should we worry? He wasn’t any problem before. He won’t be any problem now,’ shouted another.

  ‘You have no idea what sort of problem I can be,’ Valdar said through clenched teeth.

  Girmir frowned. ‘Flesh and blood, I reckon.’

  ‘Put the woman down and walk away.’ Valdar advanced steadily. The first task, the only task, was to get Alwynn free. ‘And I may yet let you live.’

  Girmir took a step forward, but stumbled slightly on a tree root.

  ‘Does she belong to you, Lack-Sword? She tastes good.’ Girmir licked Alwynn’s cheek. Alwynn spat in his face and struggled against Girmir.

  ‘That one is a wildcat.’ Girmir wiped the spittle from his face. ‘I plan on enjoying her. Maybe I will let you watch. Show you how a real man does it.’

  The world became tinged red. He felt his self-control slip. He forced a breath into his burning lungs. Girmir wanted him unbalanced to gain an advantage.

  ‘Let her go. Now. Unharmed. And you may yet save your crew,’ he ground out.

  ‘Why?’ Girmir looked him up and down with a sneer on his evil visage. ‘There are more of us than you. You will be cut down before you reach me. And I will slit her throat.’

  Alwynn twisted and brought her knees up, connecting with Girmir’s middle. Valdar wanted to tear him limb from limb for daring to touch his woman. ‘Let me down. Unhand me.’

  ‘Do as she asks.’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘I challenge you. Warrior against warrior.’

  ‘You will challenge me?’

  Valdar inwardly smiled. Girmir always did have a big head. Now he had a plan—he simply had to fight Girmir.

  ‘The gods favour me, Girmir. They always have. You know that. My swim in the sea proved it.’