Ambrose was quite amazed that so many towns openly welcomed strangers, although when he had asked Askold about it, he was told that the Vikings sailed these rivers for trade and most towns had honey, furs, or foodstuffs that they wanted to sell. Nevertheless, there were a few villages where their appearance caused fear rather than joy. Some gates were locked tight, and other villages were abandoned entirely.
Ambrose stared as they travelled past one such abandoned village. "Here, it seems, the Varangians are not welcome."
Hammar overheard the comment, and smilingly joined Ambrose and Polonius at the rail. "What you say is true, Canuteson. Some Varangian traders will, if they think they can get away with it, raid a native Slav village and sell all its inhabitants into slavery. Many Slavs thus do not welcome our arrival.
While such raids are understandable, considering the profits, it is severely frowned upon by most traders. We ostracize the culprits, as it destroys the trust built up over many long years, that have branded us as fair, if hard traders. Besides, there is no end of slaves to buy legitimately, as there are continual border raids, where enemy soldiers or villagers are seized and enslaved. So too, are any criminals, for in this manner they not only learn to repent of any deeds, but also earn a good profit for the town where they are sold. Finally, the Varangians and our Slav allies regularly raid within or beyond their spheres of influence; enslaving or seizing villagers for non-payment of dues, tithes or taxes."
As the captain had said, many slaves were offered to the ship's crew at the villages where they paused. Indeed, several were bought, although as space aboard the vessels was at a premium, relatively few could be brought aboard.
When the ship floated in a channel no wider than two beam's length, Ambrose went to the captain's side.
"Surely it's not possible for us to continue for much longer on this river. How are we to continue?"
"Canuteson', said the captain, 'I have a surprise for you right soon. Thanks to Viking ingenuity, our ships sail will on through the forest and onto the grass steppes!"
Ambrose stared at Hammar with puzzlement. "Captain, how is that possible? Are you telling me that this river, narrow as it is, can take us all the way to Kiev?"
The captain grinned at the young trader. "Nay, Canuteson, you will get your explanation tomorrow. You will just have to wait to discover the Viking secret!"
As the sun drew closer to the horizon, Askold, leader of the expedition, ordered the boats to head for shore. The vessels were quickly beached, and even before the sentries were able to fan out into the forest, the children and women leapt ashore, eager to stretch and then to prepare food for their families.
Ambrose marvelled again at the expanse of the continuing forest of mixed birch and evergreens. He turned to the Byzantine who rested against the rail beside him. "Polonius, have you noticed that some of the tree species that had predominated at Novgorod are making up a smaller and smaller portion of the forest?"
Polonius scanned the nearby shore for some moments before he replied. "You are right, Prince. I see far less birch and pine trees than before."
Dawn found the travellers refreshed and ready to move on. The boats, never unloaded nor left unattended, were launched again as they were every morning. They had travelled for no more than an hour, however, when Ambrose noticed that the forest had given way to open fields. Further, it was now obvious that the boats were unable to travel much further up the river. The river had dwindled to not much more than the width of the largest ship, and was, in fact, now little more than a stream.
At last the fleet reached a settlement, and all the passengers stood at the rails to gape at the captain's surprise. There, directly in front of the first ship, was a massive set of rollers that stretched across a field and out of sight into the forest!
"There,' yelled Hammar, 'lies our stream to the Dnieper!"
The ships put ashore to loud welcomes from the mainly Slavic people who populated the village. Although it was probable that they had no especially great love for the blonde pagan giants who came from the north, they had long lived in peace with the Varangian traders, and, indeed, it was the Viking ship owners who provided most of their income.
Rapidly, for it was a common occurrence to them, several groups of villagers helped strip the boats of heavy cargo, while another hitched several teams of oxen to the first boat. With some anxiety, the crew watched the Varangian ship, scourge of so many lands, dragged with many a protesting groan onto dry land and into the "V" of rollers that facilitated the transport of river vessels over land.
For those who were not experienced traders on these rivers, the journey of their vessels was fascinating. One by one the many teams of oxen and men hauled the ships overland, until they could be launched on the other side of the watershed, into a river that directly fed the Dnieper.
Several days had seen the flotilla; one at a time, sail the wooden rollers. After much labourious effort, the ships were reloaded and ready to move on downstream to the town of Kiev. Already the spring sun was beginning to dry muddy ground, although the numerous swamps and bogs were full to the brim. The river itself still had the high crest characteristic of the spring season.
CHAPTER 22.
The Khazars.
Within a few days, aided by wind, current, and brawn, the small fleet had covered a good distance. Already the ships had slipped past Smolensk, a major fortified town on the upper reaches of the Dnieper. There the flotilla had halted and re-provisioned.
Askold and Dir had hoped to meet an official Khazar messenger there, or at least receive more news from the south, but the only information they were able to glean was a confirmation that some plague had indeed killed Kiy, Shchek, & Khoriv, the rulers of Kiev. There were rumours that there were several important factions jockeying for power, but no other news.
During the late afternoon, however, as the ships were preparing to move south again, a troop of riders was seen following the river trail. For the first time, Ambrose and the other passengers met Khazar cavalry. The small detachment had ridden all the way up the Dnieper river valley.
Since the Khazars held little more than titular authority so far north of the steppes that were their homeland, the local inhabitants paid scant attention to them except for politeness. For the new travellers such as Ambrose, Phillip and Polonius, however, these dark men were a source of much curiosity.
Dir and Askold were thrilled to see them, and held a long private conference with them. The two Varangian commanders came away smiling.
As soon as the dark warriors left the Varangian encampment, Dir and Askold ordered a meeting of all free men. Askold raised his voice, and there was instant silence. The adventurers were eager to know if the strange horsemen were with or against them.
"My friends! It is with great pleasure that I tell you the Khagan of all the Khazars has stated that he would not be opposed to Rus rule in Kiev, as long as the new rulers swear not to impede the river trade and continue to pay the traditional tribute to the Khazar nation."
Although Dir and Askold knew the Khazar hold on the Dnieper River valley north of the steppes was at best tenuous, they cheerfully made great promises, knowing that any support they could get at this time could be instrumental in their forthcoming struggle.
If, in fact, the Khazar power waned, and they lost effective control of the Dnieper River mouth, then they could always renege on their promises. If they continued to patrol the river banks and effectively control the mouth of the river, then the Varangians could only travel south and trade with Khazar permission.
With written proof of Khazar support in Dir's hand, and with the promise of hot weather coming, the expedition's members had left Smolensk confident and happy. Only the rumour that bands of Magyar warriors were raiding to the south served to dampen their enthusiasm and that only slightly.
The vessel carrying Ambrose, Phillip and Polonius was third in line in the flotilla. As it passed under the shadow of a bluff, Phillip, the ever vigilant warri
or, suddenly pointed to the crest. There, framed by trees, stood a mounted party of strangers. The riders sat still on their horses, apparently just watching the fleet's progress.
Polonius turned swiftly towards where the ship officers stood at the bow. "Captain! Look up at the bluff on the right. Do you see the men!?"
Even as he spoke, the mounted party turned and faded into the trees.
The captain spoke with quiet authority. "Signaller! Blow two blasts on the ox horn. On the double!"
As the mournful sound echoed up and down the river, all of the steersmen threw over their steering oars and made for the centre of the river. Perplexed by the signal, but obedient, the lead ship, which held Askold and Dir, waited for the Deerhound to close with it in mid-river.
Both Dir and Askold stood at the stern of the command ship as the vessels neared. Crewmen with stout ropes tossed them to sailors on the Deerhound, so that the two vessels were temporarily attached.
Askold called out. "Captain, why did you signal us to head for mid-river?"
"Jarl, there was a party of riders on the bluff above, over there!' As he spoke, he pointed to where he last saw the mysterious watchers. 'They disappeared into the trees just as soon as they realized we could see them."
"Could you identify their tribe?"
"No, Jarl. It was too far to identify them by their clothes, and they flew no banners."
The ship captain and Ambrose, Phillip, and Polonius stood respectfully silent while command decisions were made. Dir turned to Askold. "Well, cousin, what does it mean?"
Askold replied. "Maybe nothing, but I don't think so. If they were Slav or Varangian, they would more likely have just waved to us. I do not remember any settlements on this stretch of river, so I am assuming that it had to be a scouting party for nomad raiders. What say you?"
Dir looked grim. "It's far from the steppes, but I would tend to agree. If they are on horseback, and we stick to the middle of the river, however, I don't see that it matters who they are."
"Then it's settled. We will push on, but we will stay clear of the shore until we find out who the horsemen are."
"There are two other matters we must think about."
"Such as?"
"One. We have always landed for the night."
"Paugh! So we spend a few days sleeping on wooden decks, or we find islands safely away from the shore. That's not a problem."
"Two. Are there any rapids or shallows coming up where we have to portage?"
"By Thor's thunderbolts, I don't know! If there is, then we could be in deep shit."
Dir turned back to the captain who had brought the warning. "Hammar, I have a task for you. I want you to visit each ship of the fleet in turn. Tell the captains we will go forward, but until told otherwise, no ship is to go near the shore. The width of the river is our ally. I want the men sent to the oars. We will see how far from here we can be by sundown.
And tell our navigator to check his runes. We need to know exactly how many day's sailing we have before we reach any obstacles."
The crewmen released the ropes that bound the two ships and the current quickly separated them. The commander's vessel surged forward under the impetus of the rowers, and the Deerhound slipped back towards the next vessel.
Gentle back-strokes held the Deerhound still while, one by one, the karves and dugouts of the fleet drew alongside. Captain Hammar repeated their commanders' instructions again and again as Ambrose leaned against the ship's rail and idly gazed at the large and ever-widening river. It was already larger than any Ambrose had known in Britain. He turned to the Byzantine scholar at his side.
"Polonius, if we stay out of bow range of the shore, what do we have to fear? It may be uncomfortable to sleep on the wooden decks for a few days, but it's safer than having our throats cut as we sleep."
"Prince, the Dnieper is many times larger, and longer, than any river you would have known in your own homeland. The length is the problem, and the drop."
"How so?"
A rushing mountain river is generally not a navigable. One as broad and long as the Dnieper, however, must inevitably have narrows, rapids and bluffs. These points are presumably a key concern, for you're right, little can harm the ships as long as we have room to manoeuvre. The Varangians are superb sailors, and their ships are justly feared across Europe.
These people need have little fear of an attack on open water. A narrows or shallows, however, especially if allied with bluffs, could mean real danger, for archers and catapults could wreck havoc on boats unable to move out of range. And when we are forced ashore to portage our cargoes, we are sitting ducks to any attackers."
While no more signs of observation were apparent, lookouts remained vigilant. Thus it was that when the first ship rounded a bend that led to both narrows and a slight bluff on one side, a lookout shouted a warning that was instantly repeated by braying horns. Moments later, from the heights along the shore rose great flocks of arrows, which showered down around and upon each vessel.
Several warriors, as well as a few women and children, were struck down. The rest scurried to hide under the partial decking or behind the wall of shields that hung along both sides of the vessel. Fortunately the enemy archers were only able to get a good angle from one bank, and thus only one bank of rowers was really exposed. The vessels moved hastily towards the other bank.
Finally the Deerhound, in its turn, made the bend. Ambrose and his companions could suddenly see the arrows flying, and, more, they could see what had caused the alarm to be sounded. Stretched across the river at its narrowest point was a continuous line of rafts. Made of stout logs, and tied securely one to the other, they made a formidable barrier.
Worse, the rafts were also loaded with large numbers of archers. Like their companions on shore, they sent shaft after shaft arcing towards the oncoming ships, until the vessels looked like porcupines. Inevitably, more and more rowers were struck.
Fortunately for the Varangians, the raiders were mounted nomads, and although in disturbingly large numbers, they were really prepared only for fast and mobile land warfare. Thus, only a few small portable catapults lobbed stones down at the passing vessels from the bluffs above.
The light portable catapults were meant for village gates, not strong forts. This meant that they were unable to hurl the kind of stones that would have been able to sink a vessel with a single hit. Nevertheless, the stones they could shoot were capable of breaking through thin decking and wreaking havoc on any victims who were close to where they landed.
At a second braying signal from the lead vessel, the various ships back-watered. Within seconds the entire flotilla came to a complete halt, reversed, and then gathered speed upriver. Pulling the steering-oars from the water, and relying on the skill of the experienced crewmen to control the ships by rowing alone, the larger ships of the fleet changed direction in moments. The many small ships and dugouts quickly spun around the larger vessels and followed suit.
Even as the boats reversed direction, however, a large flotilla of small boats broke cover from the lower bank and swarmed out towards the Viking vessels. Cunningly placed, most of the boats broke cover towards the rear of the Varangian fleet. Ambrose realized that the Vikings were trapped between the raft-boom and the small craft.
The prince turned to his Byzantine friend. "Polonius! We can't go forward, and we can't go back! What can we do!?"
"Prince, the most dangerous decision is not to decide immediately upon a course of action. They heavily outnumber us, and they have caught us by surprise, but we are still safe on the water. Indecision on Dir and Askold's part now, however, could be fatal, but we are hardly beaten yet. If I had to make the decision, I would choose to attack the small boats. The men there can't both row and shoot, and we have the protection of our higher sides against them. We should be able to actually harvest them quite nicely."
Even as the friends watched, archers on the nearer bank broke cover, and they too, started a hail of arrows against the s
hips that had moved too far from the other bank. Several more rowers gasped and fell. The lead ship's signal horn blared again, ordering the vessels to keep moving back up river. The die had been cast. They would fight their way through the swarm of small boats.
Even over the massed chanting of the enemy warriors, Polonius and Ambrose could hear many of the Varangian warriors working themselves into a frenzy and calling upon Odin. In truth, a fighting rage was not difficult to achieve. More and more rowers were wounded by the great flocks of missiles that still arced at them from the shore, the little boats, and the rafts.
At last the rival fleets neared. Jubilant Varangians were finally able to strike back. The small vessels sheltered behind the high-sided karves, and the bigger vessels closed. No mean archers, although it was not their most favoured mode of battle, the Varangian warriors launched arrows, and, when close, ballast stones and spears at the overloaded small boats.
Secure behind their higher sides, now that the archers on the shore had to cease shooting or risk hitting their own men, the Rus emptied boat after boat of steppe warriors. The karves themselves were used as battering rams; crushing many more boats and dumping their occupants into the dark waters.
The dugouts followed the larger boats, and the warrior-traders in them speared any luckless swimming nomads they could reach. Finally however, in spite of the fearsome toll being taken of them, an appreciable number of enemy boats reached the line of karves. The fierce steppe warriors swarmed aboard.
With glee and hate, the Varangian defenders savagely counter-attacked. Companion karves and dugouts pulled alongside long enough for the swiftest warriors to leap aboard. Reinforced with the extra Viking fighting men, the Varangians were in their element. The decks were soon awash with blood.
The cries of fear from the women and children, crammed below the partial decking, mingled with the battle cries and death rattles of the warriors of both nations. Gradually the ships lost headway, as the majority of Varangian rowers were either required to seize their arms and defend their ships, or the crews transferred to vessels in trouble.
Ambrose, Prince of Wessex; Trader of Kiev. Page 18