The Norseman

by Jason Born

  Seeing the priest was done, Olaf said, “Thank you, Halldorr, but when are you going to spend some money and get a true warship? I am afraid that shortly the only thing the Boar will be charging toward is the bottom of the sea.” He already knew my answer, but pointing out the delinquencies of my ship was one of his favorite pastimes.

  “We keep her in fine shape. She’ll carry enough men to do plenty of killing for you,” I answered.

  “And Randulfr, you haven’t answered. Are you coming?” asked Olaf.

  “Lord, The Whale remains Leif’s longboat and I’ll not speak for him,” parried Randulfr, very ably putting the discussion to Leif.

  “Leif? Why haven’t you answered? I’ve never known you to withhold your opinion.”

  Leif pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and squinted. “Of course. You’ll have the Skull, The Whale, and their crews.” This wasn’t the same Leif I knew. He was besotted with Thorgunna and it showed. Olaf didn’t notice though, as he was singularly focused on obtaining his crown. We finished our meal discussing the pending voyage then adjourned our impromptu meeting until morning. I stood next to Leif and watched Olaf and Crevan march down to the Serpent. Out of the shadows, Thorgunna appeared, looking brilliant. Her skin was particularly bright that night and it almost illuminated the darkness around her. Leif put his strong arm around her lean shoulder.

  “Good night, Thorgunna. I’ll leave the two of you alone,” I said.

  She reached out a thin hand and held my arm where the charging boar tattoo rested. “Don’t go. I need to tell you something,” she told me. So I paused and said nothing while I waited for her to speak. The woman looked into the eyes of the man who she had chosen as hers then faced me. With a bright smile and in a melodic voice she said, “I am carrying Leif’s child.” It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I stepped back and looked her up and down and saw the distinctive belly forming under her dress. So that was Leif’s problem, his new woman wouldn’t let him go away.

  I said, “Thorgunna, that is remarkable news, but why did you tell me? I’m sure Leif would have said something when he was ready.”

  Without hesitation she answered, “Because I listened to the plans you made with Olaf and I know you intend to take my Leif on an adventure. I just want you to promise you’ll protect him so that he can come back to me and this baby.” She was a rare beauty. She didn’t want to keep Leif behind; instead she loved him enough to accept that he must go. This was a good turn of events, for Leif could bring the Skull without feeling guilt.

  “Yes I promise. He is my brother and I’ll die to protect him.” This brought a pleasant smile to Thorgunna who again turned to face Leif.

  Leif’s face told a different story. He still looked tormented. Thorgunna asked, “What is it?”

  Leif responded, “I’m staying with you. I’ve made my decision.”

  “But you promised Olaf you’d take the Skull and The Whale to battle,” I replied.

  “I am going to unpromise. Randulfr can buy The Whale from me. Anyone from the Skull who doesn’t want to stay can divide themselves among the crews of the Boar and The Whale. My son will need a father.” And I understood. There was no argument from me. A son needs a father.

  The tide lifted our boats free from the shingle. Almost five thousand men were leaving Sudreyjar to help make our warlord king of Norway. Among them were the one hundred two men of the Charging Boar and The Whale. Leif was right in that only a small number of men wanted to stay, Tyrkr among them. Leif was a great, inspiring leader, but the men knew their duty. More likely they knew their fortunes lay across the sea, not on a remote island off Scotland’s coast. So we divided the men between our remaining two ships. Randulfr at the helm of his new purchase, The Whale, the larger of the two, commanded sixty. The rest sailed on the Boar.

  Olaf gave an indifferent shrug that morning when Leif told him he was not going. He feigned an interest in Leif’s domestic life. But Olaf had hardened his heart over the years, helped by two women who became two wives and then became two dead bodies. According to his stories and the brilliance in his eyes when he talked of his first wife, Geira, she was the love of his life. Those of his men who had been with him the longest told tales of Olaf weeping for days following her death eleven years earlier. Today he was also too preoccupied with the prospect of being a king and converting thousands to Christ as the soothsayer foretold.

  Leif, Thorgunna, and her father watched us go from a hillside near the pebble strewn beach. He looked content with his choice. Thorgunna looked radiant. Her father looked relieved that he had gotten rid of so many warriors without any of his subjects dead.

  It took us two days to reach Orkney, where we stopped for Olaf to convert the jarl and his people. The conversion of the people to the true faith was surprisingly fast. Crevan and Olaf talked with Jarl Sigurd about denouncing the old gods, but he declined, saying that they served his people well for generations. Sigurd’s son, who looked about three, played on the ground with Vigi behind the Jarl’s chair. Olaf told Sigurd that he would be king of a united Norway and wanted his subjects to put their faith in Christ. I watched as Sigurd respectfully refused.

  Olaf asked, “Crevan, please stand and fetch me the boy.” Crevan looked confused but did so. Sigurd looked equally as confused. Olaf pulled the boy onto his lap and stroked his shaggy hair. “Jarl Sigurd, I will try one last time to convince you to accept the Christ. I am passionate about this, you can see, for a fortune teller told me my fate was to cause many to come to the faith. If you don’t agree to convert, I will be forced to kill this fine boy.” He said the last calmly with an icy voice. I had seen Olaf perform with ruthless efficiency in battle, but never knew him to threaten a fellow Norseman’s child. His conversion and subsequent talks with Aethelred had, indeed, left him a changed man.

  Jarl Sigurd wanted to kill Olaf, I could see. But he knew that would only bring his son’s certain death. It would also bring about his own, his family’s, and many of his people’s deaths because of our warrior’s presence. So with a defiant jaw Sigurd said the words, “Yes lord, I would be honored to accept the new faith.”

  Old Crevan asked, “Will you then pass the faith to your people?”

  Sigurd was accepting his position now and said with a straight face, “Of course, why would I withhold such live-saving faith from my subjects?”

  “Then let’s go,” said Olaf. He stood and held the boy’s hand as the lot of us walked to the shoreline. Crevan and Jarl Sigurd waded into the cold water of the North Sea where Crevan said some phrases in Latin and dunked the jarl beneath the waves. When they both returned to land with their teeth chattering, Sigurd was quick to snatch his boy up into his arms. Olaf beamed with pride. “Excellent work Crevan. And Jarl Sigurd, it is excellent to have you in the brotherhood of faith!” Olaf said with honesty. Returning to his usual jovial personality, Olaf then gave the boy and his father a bear hug, getting soaked in the process. Olaf spent another fifteen minutes talking about the true faith and Norway and how we would all be brothers in Christ under his kingship. He ended his talk with, “And I’ll send Crevan with some men and ships in the coming year to see if you need help with your progress on converting your people.” Olaf didn’t mean it in a menacing sense, but Sigurd took it that way because I could see his expression turn to dread. Now satisfied with his work, Olaf jumped into Serpent and, with the exception of Jarl Sigurd’s heart, we left the island in relative peace.

  We sailed for two days in an early summer storm until we came to the shores of Norway. Even in the mist, the deep blue fjords were beautiful and reminded me of my youth with my father. We had a small farm in one of these fjords and I remembered fishing with him out in the sea during summer while we waited for our crops to grow. Snow capped mountains were interrupted by the lush, narrow green surrounding the water in the fjords. I thought briefly about turning the rudder of the Boar away from our fleet and disappearing into one of the slender valleys. I looked down at the rudde
r in my hand and, seeing the tattoo of the charging boar on my forearm, was reminded of my fate. I had a destiny to lead these men and serve Olaf. My choice had been made for me long ago.

  Olaf chose a small but inhabited island, called the Isle of Most, on which to land for a time. Many of the men stayed on their ships, but Olaf went ashore and had his great tent set up to keep the rain off. Crevan held a mass inside the tent for those ashore and for the local residents. The mass was spoken in Latin and occasionally Crevan translated into Norse so the people understood. The subject matter was all foreign, however, so I am certain that even the translated passages made little sense to those gathered. Olaf forced the islanders to convert and to be baptized with the not-too-subtle threats of death. Crevan dipped over one hundred men into the cold waters that day. We stayed for only two more days waiting for more favorable weather.

  In the meantime, Olaf gave the men on the island the task of building what would become the first church in Norway. They began the project by felling several tall, straight trees on the day we left. Olaf would cause us to stop many times at this island in the future in order to worship at the tiny church.

  The armada skirted the western shore heading at first north, then northeast for three more days. We did not land anywhere as our power was in the sea and that is where Olaf wanted to meet his only obstacle to the throne, Haakon. Thorir, the messenger, agreed and suggested that a secret attack would be the best way to succeed. Olaf was headed to the heart of Haakon’s power, a region called Trondelag. On the second day in fairer weather than we had seen of late, we spotted a merchant’s knarr trying to outrun us to the sea. One of Olaf’s ships captured the vessel and brought the trader to Olaf who questioned the man. He said that he left the Fjord of Agdenes the previous day where Haakon had his own fleet anchored. The trader estimated that the fleet consisted of sixty ships. Olaf had the man baptized and bought some of his wares rather than just take them. The merchant continued on his way a richer man for his meeting with Olaf, both in coin and, as Crevan would say, in his spirit.

  During this pause in our journey I made sure our weapons were sharpened. I even took time and let Cnute handle the rudder while I ran a whetstone down the length of my sword’s edges and down the edge of my saex. I pulled my great yew bow from the hold along with two quivers of arrows and two cords. Since acquiring the bow, after taking Aber Tawe and renaming it Sweynsey, my strength had progressed to where I could now draw the cord to my ear. Arrows launched from my bow would easily separate the links of chain mail and enter deep into a man’s flesh, breaking bones in the process.

  We pulled on our leather and mail just as the armada began moving again. We sailed uninterrupted for the rest of the day and through the night. I had men rotate between watch and sleep to prepare for the battle I expected tomorrow.

  Haakon was wise enough to post a longboat sentry in the Norwegian Sea. She saw us approaching on the horizon several hours before we reached Agdenes. This sentry boat quickly turned and sailed ahead to warn her own navy of our approach.

  The mouth of Agdenes Fjord was wide, twenty or thirty miles across, and dotted with small islands and one large island, jutting out of the fjord at an angle. The fleet skirted these islands and entered the mouth. The wide mouth was also twenty or thirty miles deep and when all our ships were inside we began to organize into the predetermined formation from Olaf’s winter planning. I would have liked to have been in the ship nearest my third father, but because the Boar had taller sides than most warships I would be the fourth boat out from the Serpent’s starboard. The Boar sailed next to a boat called the Midgard, named after the world of men, which was next to the East, which was next to the Vik, which was next to Serpent. There were four boats positioned in a likewise manner on the portside of Serpent. Olaf organized ten such brigades with the remaining ships free to navigate, skirmish, or resupply the brigades with men or weapons as necessary.

  We sailed in this loose formation for another hour moving deeper into the mouth. I stood in the prow looking across the fjord to the land. Snow still covered the peaks in the distance, but the green of summer came to the lower elevations of the fjord. Enormous rocks, almost like the rocks of Greenland, lay scattered up one particularly rough hillside creating shallow nooks and caves. A small herd of mountain goats stood among the rocks stealing what nutrition they could from the spaces between. One of them looked at me with indifference, slowly chewing the green amidst its jaws. But this wasn’t Greenland for there were trees, beautiful green trees blanketing the lower areas. A Norseman could make a bountiful living here. Trees could be felled for ships and their masts. Sheep and goats could be raised for wool and milk and meat. A woman could be found for warmth and children.

  A shout from Serpent awoke me from my daydreaming and I looked to where the man was pointing. Haakon’s navy was approaching from their hiding place deep within the fjord. It didn’t take Fife to tell me that their numbers were larger than sixty, though not as large as ours. The largest ship, probably that of Haakon, had a black raven on a yellow sail and was in the center of the advancing force, but not in the front. It was in the fourth row of five. Olaf would not be pleased that he would not face his opponent at the start. “Bring in the cloth men!” I shouted. “To your starboard oars. Bring us alongside the Midgard gently.” In a well rehearsed motion, the men brought down and secured the sail. Men assigned to the starboard oars retrieved them from the rack, pulled the wooden plugs from the gunwale, and threaded the oars through the open holes. They sat at their benches and rowed the boat toward the Midgard. Two or three of the crew assigned to man the port side oars used their oars like poles against the Midgard. They slowed our progress as we came alongside. The rest of the portside oarsmen retrieved their shields and awaited battle. When we came against the other boat we exchanged ropes and lashed ourselves together. This maneuver was repeated throughout the brigades so that Olaf had ten floating platforms of nine ships each. The entire operation took less than five minutes. The untethered ships also took down their sails but remained free to move separately with their own oars. “We’ve got killing to do, men. Keep your shields tight!” I shouted, not certain what else I should have said. And they came.

  Boats in the first three rows of Haakon’s force lashed themselves together as we did. A small number of the longboats in those rows split off wide to each side. These boats were the first to come near us. I was surprised that they didn’t engage us but kept going past our platforms. I strung my bow and, with an arrow set in place, pulled back on the cord until I heard the bow creak. When my hand reached my ear, I loosed the arrow at one of the ships attempting to pass. The range was good but I missed the man at whom I aimed. Other arrows from ours and other boats shot in their direction, but they did not return any fire. Several of their men fell. They would have to be taken care of by our free, roving longboats to the rear.

  Our rowers maneuvered the clumsy platform from each end. The Boar handled the starboard rowing and a boat called Shining Sword handled the portside rowing. The oarsmen would correct our course and see that we approached any enemies smartly and stay off any rocks. The oarsmen on the platforms behind ours began to ease their floating fortress out to widen our line. Other men held shields over our rowers to protect them from the arrows and spears that would come. And come they did. The first hail from the forward floating fortress slammed all around us. I raised my own shield above my head for protection. This shield was made of thick wood with a heavy iron boss in the center to protect my hand and replaced the one I used at Maldon. An iron strap radiated out on the underside from the boss to help keep the planks together. I painted the face of this shield in alternating red and white stripes like the sail of the Boar. Standing in the prow, I soon felt the weight of two quick thuds slam into the wood.

  They were drawing closer and I decided to chance it and put my shield down to again launch my own arrows. I quickly let at least ten arrows sail and knew I had hit five men. Other men with bows did likewise
and all around me I heard the singing of bowstrings. An arrow shaft bounced off the gunwale and its point glanced off Cnute’s helmet. He went down for a moment but recovered to his feet, helmetless.

  Haakon’s second two platforms eased out wider like our own and they began to exchange missiles with our other platforms. It looked like Olaf’s platform would ram head-on into that opposing us; our nine ships to their eight. We were coming closer while javelins and spears fell in addition to arrows. I loosed more and more arrows, killing or wounding many. I looked over my shoulder to see that all our rowers were still safe, but some of the men holding shields were down with shafts projecting from bloody wounds. “Bring in the oars! Cnute get the ropes and hooks.” We were close enough now and would no longer need the oars so the men made short work of tossing them in the T-shaped rack and securing them. Our crew was now full of fighting men, weapons and shields held by strong hands. Cnute swung a long heavy rope with a metal three-pronged hook on the end to grapple the platform to us. Men on the prows of the other boats were doing the same. He let it fly toward the opposing ship and it hooked a man in the back and slammed him into his own prow. But Cnute tugged on it and it held so the two of us pulled so the boat was coming to us swiftly.

  I heard loud crunching from the center of the line. The beard of iron spikes on the Serpent was splintering the middle of Haakon’s foremost fortress. Cnute and I heaved again on the rope, but the hook finally tore from the man’s back and we fell onto our asses. The hook landed between my legs with pieces of bones and what looked like a kidney stuck to it. I scrambled to my feet, hoisted my shield, and leapt aboard the opposite ship. A man swung his battle axe which I took on my shield. Under my shield I saw his leather clad boot on the deck and I swung my sword, hemming him at the ankle. Blood poured out from the leg like a waterfall and he crashed to the deck in a quickly forming pool. Chaos reigned.