Two more of our warriors had by now joined Ivar’s man atop the tower ramparts. At Ivar’s signal, they began hauling on the rope. The helpless Frank was hoisted slowly up off the bridge, his feet flailing wildly. The bishop, still standing between two of Hastein’s warriors, dropped to his knees and began to pray.
Please, I thought, looking up at the Frankish captain watching from the island. This day, at least, let no more of your people die needlessly. Spare this man, for it is certain Ivar will not.
“Let him down!” the captain shouted. “I will surrender the fortress.”
11 : Holding the Prize
The town and fort had fallen, but our army still needed to consolidate and protect our victory. Though they might not be warriors, the citizens of Paris greatly outnumbered us. And even if they remained peaceful, and did not pose a direct threat to our small force, many had fled the town when they’d realized it was under attack. Some would surely reach the Frankish army before long and alert it to our presence in Paris.
Ragnar assigned two hundred of our men to take control of and man the island fort, and confine the soldiers of the town’s garrison there under guard. Count Robert and the bishop were also to be confined in the fort. As the only member of our force who spoke the Franks’ tongue fluently, I remained there to assist Ragnar during the garrison’s surrender.
While I was aiding Ragnar, Hastein returned to the Church of St. Genevieve. The priests, plus a number of nobles captured among the worshipers there, were marched under guard to the fort so they could be exchanged for ransom, used as hostages in the event we were attacked, or both. Hastein and his men released the remainder of the Franks who’d been inside the church when we’d surrounded it. We could not confine and guard them all.
Mounted raiding parties raced through the town and surrounding countryside, sacking every church and monastery they found, gathering their valuables before the Christian priests could hide them. The abbots and monks of the monasteries and the priests of the churches who had not already fled by the time our raiders reached them were also seized, and held with the other prisoners of value in the island fortress.
By the time all from the fort’s garrison were disarmed and secured, Hastein had returned to the island with the additional prisoners from the Church of St. Genevieve. Neither Genevieve nor any other nuns or priestesses were among them.
“Has a raiding party been sent to the Abbey of St. Genevieve?” I asked him.
“No,” he said. “Not yet. We did loot the church, though. The wealth the priests had amassed there was astonishing. The Christians’ God may not be as strong as our Gods are, but he is certainly wealthy—or his priests are, at least.”
“I would like to help search the abbey for plunder,” I said. “When you send warriors there, I would like to go with them.”
Hastein had been pacing along the rampart atop the fort’s wall as we talked, studying the island’s defenses. He stopped and turned to look at me. A slow smile spread across his face.
“You would like to search the Abbey of St. Genevieve for plunder?” he asked. “Ah. Do you plan to take her prisoner again?”
I could feel my face turning red. “No,” I said. In truth, I was not entirely sure why I wished to go to the abbey. I told myself it was because I wished to make certain Genevieve was not harmed when the abbey was looted. It could be a dangerous time.
“Take ten warriors and go there now,” Hastein said. “You will be in charge.”
It was my first command. I felt nervous, and wondered if the warriors assigned to me would follow my orders.
“This is a community of women, of priestesses,” I told the men as we approached the abbey gate. Several of the warriors came from ships other than the Gull, and I did not know them. They grinned and nodded to each other appreciatively. “These are holy women to the Franks,” I continued. “You will not harm them. It would anger the people of the town unnecessarily.”
One of the men who’d laughed a moment ago now scowled and spoke up angrily. “Are you saying we cannot pleasure ourselves with the women of this town?”
There were thousands of women in this town. There was nothing I could do about most of them. It can be a bad thing to be a woman in a town that falls to an enemy army. But I would not let Genevieve be harmed.
“I speak only of these women, these priestesses,” I answered. “They are not to be molested by you, or by anyone in our army.”
“You are not my captain,” the man retorted. “I do not even know who you are. Why do you think you can tell me which women I can or cannot have?” He was heavily built, and though I had never seen him fight, he looked old enough to be an experienced warrior.
I could not let his insolence go unchallenged. Holding my hand up to signal we should stop, I turned my horse and guided it back to where the man who’d spoken now sat staring sullenly at me from atop his own mount.
“You do not know me? My name is Halfdan,” I told him. “Though to Ragnar Logbrod, and the rest of the leaders of our army, I am known as Strongbow. You are free to disregard what I have just told you about the women who live in this abbey. But if you choose to do so, I promise you will not live to enjoy any of them. And you should know that you would not be first warrior in this army I have slain because he disobeyed my orders.”
The warrior who had challenged me glared, and I could see the muscles in his neck tighten. His right hand twitched, as if it wished to reach for the hilt of his sword.
My shield was slung across my back. I was holding my bow, unstrung, in my right hand and the horse’s reins in my left. If he went for his sword, I would be at a disadvantage. If he reaches for it, I thought, I will stab the tip of my bow into his eye. With my knees, I nudged my horse even closer to him, lessening the distance between us. I wondered if any of the others would join in the fight, or if they would just watch to see who died.
But he did not want to fight. Perhaps he could see the death—his own—that was in my eyes. Or perhaps he merely did not wish to break Ragnar’s edict, and risk his wrath. He shrugged his shoulders and looked away. “As you wish,” he said. “The priestesses will not be harmed.”
The gate to the abbey was closed when we arrived. I dismounted and hammered on it with my fist. A small door set within the larger gate swung open. Standing just inside was a short woman in a gray gown, with a white mantle and hood like the one Genevieve had been wearing when I’d first seen her. She had a frightened look on her face. Two other women, dressed similarly, were standing behind her.
“I am looking for the person in charge of this abbey,” I told them.
The short woman let out a long sigh, closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “Praise God!” I wondered if this was how Frankish priestesses typically greeted a stranger. I saw no reason she should be glad to see me.
“I am Abbess Adelaide,” she told me, opening her eyes. “I am in charge of the abbey. Have you come to help us escape from the Northmen? I have been praying to the Blessed Mother of Jesus to rescue us. Surely she has sent you here.”
I thought it unlikely, although my mother had once told me the Christians’ God worked in mysterious ways. I realized the abbess believed we were Franks. I and all of the warriors with me were still wearing captured Frankish armor, and I had spoken to her in Latin—though my use of that tongue sounded very different to my ears from the way the Franks spoke it. Perhaps she thought I was a Breton, or from some other distant province of the Franks’ lands.
“Were you and the prie… the nuns of the abbey in the church when it was captured?” I asked her.
“We were not,” she said. “We were on our way to the church, but were late. It was Sister Helen’s fault. I was quite annoyed at her and feared the Bishop would be angry at us all. But now I see that it was God’s will. He—or perhaps it was Saint Genevieve herself—was protecting us.”
“All of you are here in the abbey now?”
She nodded her head. “I was leading our sisters, and had just reached the gate to the
church, when I saw armed warriors encircling it. I knew something was very wrong. We turned around and returned here, and have learned since that it was the Northmen,” she answered. “So far they have not come here, but I fear sooner or later they will. I do not believe we will be truly safe unless we escape from Paris. The Northmen are pirates and savages. They are not likely to respect the fact that we are the brides and servants of Christ.”
“You were right to worry that the Northmen will come here. It has happened sooner rather than later,” I told her. “My men and I are Danes.”
Her eyes grew big, and she tried to slam the narrow door shut in my face. I caught it and pushed it open, sending her staggering backward. Stepping inside, I lifted the bar securing the main gate.
“Do not be afraid,” I told her. “If you do not resist, you will be safe. I have told my men they are not to harm any of you. But I want you to send these two women here with you to gather all of the nuns together in one room. Do it right now. You will be safer if you are all together, while my men are searching the abbey.”
“Searching?” she said. “What are you searching for?”
Anything of value, I thought. Anything at all. I had seen some of the treasure looted previously from Frankish churches and monasteries. Hastein was right. The wealth accumulated in the name of the Christians’ God was astonishing: plates and goblets of silver and gold, silver candlesticks with great thick candles of fine white wax, rich gowns worn by the priests, and intricately embroidered cloths used to cover the altars to their God. Many also contained generous supplies of the finest wine and ale, and bountiful amounts of the best meats and other provisions. Servants of the White Christ lacked for nothing. We would take it all.
“Just do as I say,” I told her. “Do it now.”
The abbess turned to the two nuns with her. “Quickly,” she said, her voice trembling. “Gather the sisters together. Bring them to the chapel.”
I spotted her as soon as I entered the chapel. Genevieve and the rest of the nuns were huddled against the far wall, watching the door nervously.
The abbess was walking just in front of me. She had led me there. One of the nuns called out to her when we entered the room.
“Is it true, Reverend Mother? Are the Northmen here, in the abbey?”
I thought it a foolish question. Did she not see me standing behind the abbess? Then I remembered the armor I was wearing. To these women, no doubt I appeared to be a Frank.
“It is true,” the abbess said.
The women began chattering to each other in frightened voices. “Silence!” the abbess said. “We must all pray together now for God’s mercy. And we must thank him for answering the prayers we have already offered. This man is the officer commanding the Northmen who are here. He has promised me we will not be harmed.”
All eyes in the room now looked at me. When Genevieve’s eyes met mine, her hand flew up to her mouth and her face turned as white as the mantle she was wearing. She staggered back and would have fallen had the woman beside her not caught her.
I do not know what I had thought—or perhaps hoped—her reaction might be. But I certainly had not expected this. Did the sight of me so horrify her?
I stared at Genevieve, watching the other nuns help her to a nearby seat, my mind numb and blank. Suddenly I became aware Abbess Adelaide was speaking to me.
“Poor Sister Genevieve,” she was saying. “She was captured by your people. It was a harrowing experience for her. She saw her own cousin killed. Her father paid a ransom, and she was but recently freed and returned to us. It must terrify her to see you, after what she has been through.”
“I did not know,” I lied. “I do not wish to cause her or any of your nuns distress. I merely wished to be certain you all were safe here, while my men search the abbey. I will rejoin them now.”
Ragnar was more cautious than the Franks had been. A screen of mounted sentries watched all of the approaches to Paris. Mid-morning of the day after we captured the town, we received a warning that a large force of mounted Frankish troops was approaching from the west. By now, most of our warriors except those acting as pickets had returned to the safety of the fort, bringing their plunder with them. If the Franks attacked in force, we could hopefully hold out against them on the island until our fleet arrived.
While Ivar remained in the fort, preparing our warriors to defend it if necessary, Hastein and Ragnar headed out to meet the approaching Franks. I rode with them to serve as their interpreter. We were accompanied by a guard of one hundred warriors—a force strong enough to allow us to conduct a fighting retreat back to the island if the Franks did not honor the flag of truce we carried, yet small enough to show we did not seek battle.
The Frankish army had approached Paris along the same road from the west our own force had traveled only yesterday—the one from which we’d first seen the town. By the time our party rode out of Paris and onto the edge of the flat, cleared land that lay between the town and the forest, the Franks had already begun pouring from the mouth of the road onto the plain ahead of us. There were thousands of them. As each unit of cavalry exited the forest, they turned, some heading north toward the river, others to the south, gradually forming a great line of mounted troops that curved in an arc around the base of the hill.
“They intend to throw a circle around the town,” Hastein said.
“It does not matter,” Ragnar answered. “When we leave, it will be by the river.” I hoped he was right. I hoped Bjorn would arrive with the fleet before the Franks attacked.
A small party of Franks, five mounted warriors, separated from the milling mass of their army and rode toward us, bearing a flag of truce. Ragnar, Hastein, and I, displaying our own white flag, rode forward to meet them, accompanied by two of our warriors. We halted a few paces apart.
“My name is Lothar,” one of the Frankish warriors announced to us. “I bear a message from King Charles for the leader of your army.”
“Tell him he is speaking to our army’s leader,” Ragnar told me. “Tell him my name is Ragnar, and I am our war-king.”
When I translated Ragnar’s words, the Frank answered, looking at Ragnar as he spoke: “Then tell your war-king this: King Charles marches on Paris with his entire army. The forces you see here, the cavalry that is even now encircling the town and blocking your escape, are just its vanguard. Many thousands more of infantry follow behind. Yet even this advance guard of mounted troops you see before you numbers far more than the army you fought before.”
We have, I thought, finally awakened the sleeping giant. And now it is rushing toward us, angry and eager for our blood.
“As you yourselves have already discovered, Paris is an easy town to attack, but it is difficult to defend. If you are foolish enough to stand and fight against us, you cannot hope to win. Be assured, we will show you no mercy. None of you will leave our lands alive.
“But you do not have to die, although you deserve to. King Charles has authorized me to extend this offer to your army.” From the expression on the Frank’s face as he related the Frankish king’s terms, it looked as though the words themselves tasted bitter in his mouth. I had no doubt his personal wish was that we would refuse the offer and choose to fight.
“Release all prisoners you have captured,” he told us. “Do no more damage to this town, or to Rouen. Agree to these terms and agree now that you will leave Paris and our lands without delay. Do these things, and King Charles will give you safe passage down the Seine to the sea. He will also…” the Frank paused for a brief moment, and from the way the muscles on the sides of his jaw twitched, it looked as though he was gritting his teeth. “He will also allow you to keep the plunder you have already captured.
“It is a generous offer,” the Frank concluded. “Far more generous than you deserve. Accept it, or risk losing all. If you do not agree to King Charles’s offer this day, it will be withdrawn and we will attack.”
I agreed with the Frank. I thought it a very generous
offer. We had already won much wealth. If we accepted the Frankish king’s terms, we could keep it all, lose no more of our men, and return safely to our homes.
Ragnar disagreed. Reluctantly, I told the Frank his response.
“Ragnar, our war-king, gives this answer to your King Charles. We do not accept your king’s terms. It is he who should hope that we will offer terms to him.
“We hold many, many hostages, including Count Robert and his family, and the Bishop of Paris, plus many of your nobles and priests. If you attack us, we will kill them all. He says you must know he speaks true when he threatens to do this. You know the fate more than one hundred of your warriors suffered at our hands after we defeated your army before in battle.
“If you attack, we will also set fire to this town and burn it to the ground. We will destroy all its great buildings, all of its great churches. Then, when the town is ruined and the hostages are dead, we will take our plunder and we will sail down the river to the sea. We do not need your safe passage to leave your land. We will do so whenever we please.”
“You follow a fool, Northman. A fool or a madman,” the Frank said to me when I finished. I feared he spoke the truth. “I will take your war-king’s message to King Charles. For myself, I am glad you chose to fight. We in our army have many deaths to avenge. And while you wait to receive our wrath, think on this: You have no ships here. How do you plan to escape us?”
Ragnar’s face was red and his beard was quivering. His entire body was shaking, he was so angry.
“I am war-king!” he thundered. “I have made the decision for our army. If the Franks attack, we will kill the prisoners and we will burn the town. We cannot appear to be weak and lacking will.”
“I gave my word,” Hastein answered. “I will not break it. If the Franks attack, we must show our strength and will by fighting them, not by slaughtering unarmed captives. I will allow no one—you included—to dishonor my name. The prisoners we hold surrendered because of my personal oath to them that they would not be harmed. I will not be an oath-breaker. I will not allow you to make me one.”
The Road to Vengeance Page 17