by Griff Hosker
“Well?”
“We found villages close to the river which still had a lord but the closer we came to Djupr the fewer we found.”
“What did you do to the men in the villages?”
“Disarmed them.”
I shook my head, “That is not enough. Ragnar the Resolute, take your warband. I would have you chop off the right hand and right leg of every man who rebelled against us. Banish them and their families from my land. Leave on the morrow.”
He nodded. Ragnar was a man who lived up to his name, “Aye, lord.”
“And Olaf?”
“He invited me alone into his walls. I was suspicious and did not go. His men loosed arrows and bolts at us. I lost four men. Three of them were oathsworn. This is now a blood feud. I will have blood for the blood I have lost. Weregeld will not be enough!”
“That is true, old friend, for all of us. Tomorrow I will go and speak with him.”
“Speak?”
“The words are intended for the ears of those within his walls. I want them to be in no doubt as to their fate if they resist me. The perimeter is secure?”
“It is but he can still escape by sea.”
I turned to Haraldr, “Tomorrow take our horses and return to Rouen. Bring ‘Fafnir’ and any other ships in port. Blockade Djupr.”
That night I told Sámr what we had discovered. His face hardened, “All the time we were in the south fighting the Bretons, the Count of Flanders and his man were plotting. I cannot believe it of Olaf’s son.”
I turned to him. “I should have known it better than any. My brother slew our father and tried to kill me. Just because it is family does not make a difference to some men.”
“You may be right and we saw little of Olaf in the last years and nothing of his son.”
“Neither was with us at Paris. Suddenly many things are clearer. What I do know is that I will have to choose my next Count of Djupr more carefully.”
The next morning, I mounted Blue and, with my men around me, I rode to within three hundred paces of the walls. I held my shield in my left hand. It hung loosely. I was still in arrow range but at that distance, the arrow would not penetrate my mail and leather. I shouted, “I would speak with Olaf Olafsson.”
I was made to wait an inordinately long time and I wondered if he had fled. Eventually, he came and stood on his gatehouse. It was a wooden one. Djupr had been a dependable port in the past and had suffered no attacks. If we had to assault it then it would not be as hard as some of my men’s strongholds.
“Why, Olaf? Why have you betrayed me? Did I not reward you? Why did you join with Count Arnulf?” My words were carefully chosen for I was trying to discover the size of the problem.
“Why choose the Count of Flanders rather than a barbarian like you? That is easy! When you are dead, I will be Count of Normandy.”
“That will not happen. I am still alive and sitting astride my horse. You are the one cowering behind your walls. You are the one who is afraid to meet us beard to beard.”
His voice sounded contemptuous but I knew he feared me. “What is it that you want, old man?”
I felt my bodyguards begin to murmur at his insults. I held up my hand and said, quietly, “Peace!” Then I raised my voice. “I cannot believe that all of your warriors rebelled against me. I fought alongside many of them. Let them come to me and ask for my forgiveness! If they do then they shall live.”
He laughed, “You want those who oppose me?”
His words should have warned me but I could not see his purpose, “Aye, I would have them!”
He turned, “Let the barbarian have his men.”
His warriors must have been waiting behind the wooden palisade for suddenly twenty naked and mutilated bodies were thrown into the ditch and beyond. I recognised some despite the mutilations. They were the older warriors who had fought alongside Old Olaf. My voice was like ice, “I will leave you with one message. We are coming for you. If you surrender now, we will give you a warrior’s death and we will spare your womenfolk. If we attack and we lose one warrior then I will give the blood eagle to the survivors and the women will be given to my men. Your children will be sold into slavery!”
He laughed, “You have not enough men and Count Arnulf will come to my aid! Your words are empty. You had power but no longer.” He dropped his arm and a flurry of crossbow bolts came at me and my men. My hand came up. Four bolts hit my shield. One struck Blue in the shoulder but it barely penetrated. Another one hit Geoffrey d’Honfleur, one of my young horsemen, but his mail was good. I shook my head, “Treachery seems to come as second nature to you, Olaf. This will not end well for you.” I wheeled my horse around and led my men back to our lines.
When I reached my men I waved over Erik, “Have your men ride to the border. If the men of Flanders come let me know. I would meet them north of here. Do not engage them, just watch.”
“Aye, lord.”
“Sámr, follow Haraldr. I need you with the ships which blockade the port. You have watched him when he commanded ships. Use that knowledge.”
“Aye, lord, I will ride until my horse drops!”
I did not have enough men with me to fight an invading army of Flemish warriors. Olaf had sounded confident. I calculated that it would take two or three days, at least, for Sámr to blockade the port. I had enough warriors to contain Olaf and, possibly, to assault his walls but if Count Arnulf came then I would be in trouble. Was this a bluff from the traitor?
We found out the next day. A column of men was heading from the north. They were the men of Flanders and there were four hundred of them. That was more than I had. Leaving my men surrounding the port I rode north with Erik, his horsemen and my horsemen. We had just over a hundred and twenty men. It would not be enough to fight a battle. Thanks to our mounted scouts we knew where the Flemish army was. The Flemish army did not know where we were. They knew they were being shadowed but could do nothing about horsemen. We met them twenty miles northeast of Djupr.
Erik had a good eye for a battlefield and he had found a good place to greet them. The land was flat but he had found a mall rise and we waited behind it. He and his men were hidden to the north and south of us. The Flemish warriors saw first my banner and then me as we crested the rise. Immediately they went into a defensive formation. Shields and spears were presented. I was flanked by Erik, Mauger and Arne. Leif Egilsson was behind me with my banner and a horn. The men of Flanders had some nobles with them. They were mailed and armed as we were but there were just thirty of them. I guessed the Count was with them for I recognised his banner. We waited.
Roger of Rouen asked, nervously, “They outnumber us, lord. Should we not retreat?”
“You, Roger of Rouen, are a Frank who, one day, will become a Norman. We are Vikings. We do not worry about large numbers facing us. For my men, that is the challenge. How many can we kill before we are slain? Never worry about losing. Let the enemy do that! It is a state of mind.”
I took off my helmet and said, “Erik, Mauger, Leif, with me. The rest, wait here.”
When a man has died and been brought back to life then little frightens him. I had been to the bottom of the ocean. My brother had tried to kill me. I knew that I had been chosen by the gods. That gave me belief in myself. If there was treachery then I would be the one they would target and I had lived long enough. I smiled as I rode towards the Flemish. I halted forty paces from them and waited. Their spears did not intimidate me. It would take a brave man to advance towards the Duke of Normandy on his giant horse.
Eventually, a priest, four nobles and a man I took to be the Count of Flanders nudged their horses towards me. I waited until they were just ten paces from me and I spoke, “I am guessing you must be the Count of Flanders.”
“I am Count Arnulf.”
“It is good that you visit with us but I am a little concerned that you feel you need to bring an army. Unless, of course, this is an invasion.”
I could see that my easy manner
had disconcerted him. He looked at the priest, who, from his robes, I took to be a bishop and then back to me, “The Count of Djupr has invited me here. He says this land is no longer Norman.” He looked around. “We outnumber you, Count Robert. Do not make this harder than it should be. You have lost.”
I nodded and smiled, “The number of times I have been told that you think it would be true but it is not. We have not lost. By this time tomorrow, the Count of Djupr will be enduring what we call the blood eagle and you will be back in Flanders.”
He looked at the small number of men facing him and laughed, “You are old Count Robert. Leave now and I will spare your life.”
I turned and said, quietly, “Erik.”
My master of horse raised his spear and then lowered it. Suddenly horsemen appeared along the flanks of the Flemish army. They were fifty paces from them and they had spears levelled. Horsemen always appear to be greater in number and I saw the fear on the faces of the men on foot. They were not prepared. They were in a column and if my men charged then they would die.
“You were saying?”
“A few horsemen cannot make a difference.”
“How about a few horsemen and Viking warriors?” I dug my heels into Blue and edge him towards the Count. I leaned down. I saw his nobles fingering their weapons but they would do nothing. I said, quietly, “I am willing to overlook this incursion into my land if you leave now. If you do not then there will be war. Brittany is no more. It is now part of Normandy. Perhaps I should add Flanders. It is your choice. Who do you believe, me, the lord who took Paris, or a foresworn traitor?” I saw his face as he sought a solution with honour. There was none. “I am an old man and I need to make water. Decide now. I have my Long Sword and it can be out of its scabbard in a heartbeat. I am happy to settle the matter, are you?”
He shook his head, “We have been misled. We return home!” He turned his horse and rode back through his men. They were happy to follow.
We waited until they had quit the field. “Thank you, Erik. Now let us go and deal with a traitor!”
As we rode back Roger asked, “Why did they back off, lord?”
“He looked in my eyes and saw a man who was not afraid to die. He looked into the eyes of a Viking. I am the last of a dying breed, Roger. I have fought for over fifty years and I am still a powerful warrior. My son is a new warrior. He is a Norman!”
The next morning, I rode to the gatehouse and shouted, “I have met with Count Arnulf. He has returned home. We come for you tomorrow, Olaf Olafsson!”
I returned to our camp and joined my men. We had enough men to assault but I was waiting for our drekar to arrive. Mauger woke me in the middle of the night, “Lord, we have heard noises from the port. Our sentries report ships leaving.”
I stood and smacked one fist into the palm of the other, “Then he has fled! The snake has escaped us.”
“Do we attack, lord?”
“No, we wait for Sámr and our ships. I know now that they will be here tomorrow but that is a day too late.” I shook my head, “The White Christ does not know all. The sisters are spinning!”
I went back to bed but I did not sleep. I was planning my revenge. It would not be swift. We had to consolidate Brittany. I needed to appoint new lords for the towns and fiefs north of the Seine and I needed to reduce Djupr and make it mine once more. That it would be bloody I knew already.
My men were arrayed by the third hour of the day. This was not a task for the horsemen. This would take the men who fought with a spear and a shield. It would take axemen to hew down the door. It would take the Duke of Normandy to lead the men. I led a huge wedge towards the gate. We were within arrow range when I heard a shout, “Drekar!”
It was Sámr. The effect was dramatic. The men who had been on the walls suddenly disappeared. We marched to the gates and my oathsworn took axes and began to hew the wood. It did not take long. Within were traitors and my men wanted to get at them. Once we were inside the walls, I saw the chaos and panic. There were other gates. They were smaller ones and the people of Djupr raced for them. It was futile. Sámr and his men landed and we began to kill every man we found. The women and children were taken. Some were destined to be our thralls while others would be sold in the slave markets of Dyflin. I slew no one. None dared face me. I went with Mauger and my men to the Great Hall. As I had expected, all the treasure had been taken. Olaf had fled with the treasure I had given him in Nantes. It fuelled my anger. I turned, “Mauger, I no longer need you as captain of my oathsworn!” I saw his face fall, “I need you to be Count of Djupr and rule this port with a fist of iron! We have been weak for too long!”
Chapter 8
It was Mörsugur before I was able to return to Rouen. I had selected some of the young warriors of Rouen to become my lords. It was calculated. They looked and dressed less like Vikings and might appear more acceptable to the Franks who remained. They were the concession I made to the rebels. I had had a valuable lesson. I would have to rule in a more aggressive way. I would have to become the barbarian they all thought me to make the land safe for my son. And I needed to get him wed.
It was a wet journey back to Rouen. There were flecks of snow mixed in with the sleet and the rain. It did little to improve my mood. Olaf Olafsson had escaped me. I had another enemy in Count Arnulf. I had thought, with the greater part of Brittany under my control, that I had a secure land. I had been wrong. I also learned a little more about myself. The wetting of my head had not changed me. The old ways were still the best. If a man believed in the Norns then all would be well. They gave an explanation to life that was lacking in the Christian world. That religion promised hope and resolution. The real world was nothing like that. I would continue to pay lip service to the White Christ but I would also seek to respect the sisters.
I had not only given Mauger a fief, but I had also done the same with all of my oathsworn. Arne was given the fief which had belonged to Lord Henry. There were still people living in those places. I had only slain those in the villages. I had just punished the wrongdoers. My men would have to begin again. They would have to encourage farmers to come to their fiefs. I told them all that they need not pay taxes for a year. We still had the coin from the Bretons. I rode back with the young horsemen of Rouen. I would need to find oathsworn.
When we reached my stronghold, I began to organize my land. I sat with my three priest clerks and had them draw up titles for the new lords. We lived in a world of writing and documents. It was not the Viking way but we now lived in a Frankish world. I had to adapt. The papers appeared to me to be the same as stone for the Franks. They were reassuring foundations upon which their world was built.
My son could write. That was thanks to Padraig and he sent me letters which told me of his life in Brittany. He was changing. Each letter showed me a more mature warrior. He was adapting and becoming more like a Frank. Inside he was still a Viking. He would fight like a Viking but he thought a little more like a Frank. Outside of the three major towns, life went on as it had before. The difference was that their lord was now a man appointed by me or my son. There was neither rebellion nor even the embers of one. The people there lived as they had under Alan the Great. They were used to paying taxes and my son showed great wisdom by neither increasing them nor by adding to the tax burden. So long as there was no war then the ordinary people were happy enough. The letters I sent him urged him to take a wife and sire children. I knew not if he would heed my words. There would be women who would wish to be married to such a powerful lord. It all depended upon him. Did he have more of Poppa in him than of me? I prayed to any god who would hear me that my son should marry and sire a son.
Someone must have heard my prayers. As summer drew closer and we entered Sólmánuður I received the letter which gave me hope for the future. My son had taken the daughter of one of the Breton lords we had slain. Her name was Sprota, the same name as the servant of my former wife. That was not a surprise. Poppa and Sprota were popular Breton names.
They were not married in a church. He took her as I had taken his mother. It was our way. The next letter, in high summer, told me that his wife was with child. The old Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson would have made a blót but Duke Robert just went with his young horsemen to the forests, hunted and left the heart of the stag in the river. The young men of Rouen did not understand why I did what I did and I offered no explanation but my mood improved from that moment on.
Rouen was a busy port. We were a prosperous people and had much to trade. We had many ships arriving from the Saxon kingdoms. It meant we now knew more about the island to the north of us. They were talking about it as England now. King Alfred, the father of King Edward, had united some of the smaller Kingdoms. Cent and Essex, Mercia and Northumbria were now part of Wessex. Jorvik was not under the control of King Edward of Wessex, neither were the lands of Wales and Scotland. King Edward was a powerful man. I made certain that my men spoke with their captains. Wessex, Northumbria and Mercia were all neighbours. We could trade and we could raid. They were rich kingdoms and the more I knew the better it would be for my land.
Queen Frederuna, the wife of King Charles, died. I was invited to the funeral. I would not have gone save that I was aware of my position. I owed my land to the King of Frankia. He would be insulted if I did not attend. The real reason was that I knew the other lords would attend. I would get to meet men like Count Arnulf, Robert of Neustria, King Edward and King Henry the Fowler of East Frankia. I had learned long ago that looking into a man’s eyes when there was peace helped you to defeat them when there was war. I knew there would be war in the future and I would be ready.
My young horsemen were not only from Rouen but also from the fiefs of my lords. Sámr’s son, Richard, and Erik’s son, Gilles, were amongst them. Bjorn the Brave’s second son, Berenger, was a third. These warriors looked different from the sons of the Rouen merchants. They were broader and more muscled. Bjorn, Sámr and Erik had made their sons work. They had taught them how to use a bow. Of course, all of my men dressed in the same uniform. I spent little money on me but I spent a great deal upon my men. All wore the same helmet. They each had a blue cloak with my Long Sword on the left breast. They all wore the short, split byrnie which made riding easier. Their shields were identical and they all rode a black horse like mine. I knew that it made a statement. When we rode abroad men knew who was approaching. My twenty riders were well drilled and presented.