Viking Revolt

by Gavin Chappell

  His brand went out.

  He cursed, and looked back down. The others were steadily climbing up after him. Two brands still glimmered in the dark. Gest set his own burnt out brand down on the ledge and continued his climb.

  A short while later, he halted again, teeth gritted in frustration, eyes blinking in cold light. Above him, the shaft narrowed to a slit. Through it shone daylight. Fresh air gusted down. But the slit was too narrow for him to fit his burly shoulders through.

  He called for a halt. ‘Bjorn,’ he yelled. ‘Up here.’

  Bjorn clambered up past the waiting men to join his side. Together they stared up at the narrow slit. All Gest could make out were clouds in a grey sky. But they must be somewhere high up on the cliff, if not on the cliff top.

  ‘Is there no way we can get up there?’ Bjorn asked hoarsely.

  Gest shook his head. He indicated Bjorn’s shoulders, as broad as his own. ‘Either of us would get stuck,’ he said.

  ‘We have to try,’ Bjorn exclaimed. ‘We can’t go back to Asgeir with a tale of failure. Here, get on my back. I’ll help you up.’

  Unwillingly, Gest clambered up onto Bjorn’s broad back. He gripped either side of the shaft, and hauled himself up with his arm muscles bulging. Now he lifted his right leg in search of some kind of foothold. His questing foot found a narrow shelf, and he used that to push himself upwards. Then he felt the rock brush against his shoulders on either side. He struggled to force himself higher, but soon realised that he was stuck.

  His foot slipped from the shelf of rock and he dangled helplessly. He looked down to see Bjorn still crouching there, but beyond him the shaft plummeted dizzyingly. Men clung to its sides, peering upwards. He could see little more than their eyes glinting in the dim firelight. He had blocked the shaft so the daylight no longer reached them.

  ‘Bjorn,’ he said. ‘I can go no further. I’m stuck in this shaft. Get a hold of my feet and pull me back down.’

  ‘Are you sure you can’t climb any higher?’ Bjorn panted. ‘We’re almost there.’

  ‘I am stuck,’ Gest repeated firmly. ‘I can’t go onwards or back. You’ll have to free me.’

  Bjorn grunted. He grabbed hold of Gest’s ankles and heaved. At first nothing seemed to happen. Gest remained jammed between the two walls of rock, but he felt as if his legs were about to be torn from his body. He tried to wriggle his shoulders to free himself, but to no avail. At last there was a tearing, wrenching sound and Bjorn pulled him free. They both landed with a clatter on the ledge.

  Gest pushed himself up and gave the narrow shaft overhead a baleful glare. If it had only been an inch or two wider… A thought struck him.

  ‘Get Gorm up here,’ he yelled down the shaft.

  He heard a clamour of echoing voices, then scrambling feet, and then Gorm’s name repeated. Someone came climbing up to join them. In the gloom it was only the youth’s meagre size that identified him; he had left his brand with another man before beginning his climb.

  He looked edgy.

  ‘What do you want of me, king’s man?’ he asked.

  ‘Get up there,’ said Gest, pointing at the shaft. ‘We need to see where it leads.’

  Gorm looked shifty. ‘Why not go up there yourself?’

  Bjorn struck him. ‘When the king’s man tells you to go up there, you go!’ he barked.

  ‘You’re small enough to get up there,’ Gest explained. ‘We need to know where it leads.’

  Gorm looked resentful, but he allowed the two bigger men to hoist him into the shaft. He chimneyed himself up while Gest and Bjorn watched his progress in what little light remained. Bjorn’s brand went out, and they were plunged into darkness, lit only by a glow from before. Mutters of dismay rose from the waiting men.

  Gest could see next to nothing. Even Gorm seemed to have trouble. The daylight was blocked, and the fresh air that he had been breathing no longer flowed around the shaft. He peered upwards, hearing rather than seeing Gorm’s scrabbling form making its painful way upwards.

  Abruptly, golden sunlight poured down the shaft. Gest blinked, shaded his eyes, then looked up again. Against a background of blazing whiteness, Gorm was briefly visible, a black silhouette moving slowly out of sight.

  A sudden cry echoed down the shaft. A dark shape fell across the opening, blocking it again. The beast stench was back again, stronger and more sickening, and now Gest heard a snarling sound from above. Something warm and sticky rained down on his face.

  ‘It’s the trolls,’ Bjorn snarled. ‘They’ve got Gorm!’

  Something hurtled down the shaft, scraping along the sides. It fell straight past the two men and went bouncing off down the shaft. As it passed, Gest saw that it was Gorm’s broken corpse.

  There was a grinding noise from above and something else came crashing down the narrow shaft. Rocks and stones cascaded.

  ‘We’ve got to get away,’ Bjorn yelled over the roar. ‘We’ll die here.’

  ‘Nay,’ shouted Gest. ‘Get back against the wall. Out of the way…’

  Ignoring him, Bjorn began climbing down the shaft. That was the last Gest saw of him, as all light vanished. The brands had all been extinguished, and now the head of the shaft seemed to be filled in.

  The cascade of rock ended as abruptly as it had begun. All Gest could hear was the shouting of men scrambling back down the shaft.

  Against his better judgement, he followed them, scrabbling for hand and footholds in the pitch blackness.

  —15—

  Of that nightmare journey through the darkness, Gest was later to remember little. He and a hundred other men, it seemed, blundered through the deepest night, slithering from one unseen ledge to another. Several times Gest felt himself falling, slipping from his precarious position, only to catch hold of out-jutting rocks with his flailing hands.

  At last he reached the bottom of the shaft. All around him he could hear the shouting of men, some crying out in pain. He bellowed for silence. After several attempts, he got what he wanted.

  ‘Listen to me, all of you,’ he yelled, his voice echoing weirdly. ‘It’s no use blundering about blindly in the darkness. Are all of you down here?’

  A chorus of groans and cries of assent met his words.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now we have to find our way back to the ship. Bjorn, are you there?’

  ‘I’m right here, neighbour.’ Bjorn’s voice was very close, so close Gest started.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now, does anyone know the way back to the tunnel?’ The dark descent had disoriented him.

  ‘I can feel air on my face,’ said a voice. ‘I think it’s behind me.’

  Gest felt his way in that direction. ‘Keep talking,’ he said. ‘I’ll come to you.’

  ‘Come this way,’ the man said. ‘That’s right, towards me.’ He kept talking as Gest made his way across the slippery rocks. Twice the king’s man blundered into crouching forms that complained at the collision. Then he heard the man’s voice close up, and reached out to feel his hand grasped by a mighty paw.

  ‘Who is that?’ he asked, and the man introduced himself as Hogni. ‘And where do you feel the air coming from?’

  ‘This way,’ Hogni said, pulling Gest to one side. As he did so, Gest smelt a salt breeze.

  ‘That must be it,’ he muttered. ‘Now all we need do is make our way back.’

  ‘In pitch blackness,’ Hogni muttered in reply.

  Gest raised his voice. ‘Bjorn, the rest of you! Come towards my voice. But be careful. The ground is unsteady underfoot, and it’s slippery, as you must remember. Come this way!’

  He heard footsteps as one by one the men headed blindly towards him. ‘Now stay still,’ he told them. ‘Find your neighbour, put your hand on his shoulder. Hogni, put your hand on mine.’ He felt the man’s big hand grip hold of his shoulder. ‘Bjorn, try to find Hogni. I want you near me.’

  In this way the men found each other in the blackness. When he was sure that everyone was holding onto someone e
lse, Gest made his way forwards. ‘Follow the man in front of you,’ he told them.

  In this halting, faltering manner, they made their slow and painful way back down the tunnel. Twice Gest almost walked straight into a rock wall. At last he saw light ahead.

  ‘Good news, men!’ he called out. ‘We’re getting close.’

  As they made their way towards the dim, hazy light, Gest saw something darker in its midst. The dark shape resolved itself into a man. He seemed to be peering into the blackness. Beyond him stretched the waters of the cave. Gest felt a wash of relief on sighting the longship, its gunwale lined with men, the cook fire still illumining them.

  ‘Who is that?’ the man demanded.

  ‘It’s Gest,’ the king’s man cried, ‘and the others who went this way.’

  The man turned out to be Asgeir, perching on the cave’s strand, his breeches slathered with muck, but clean by comparison with the bedraggled creatures who slowly ventured out into the light of the cave. Asgeir rested on a spear and looked them up and down bewilderedly as they came out into the light.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘Did you find the way to the trolls’ cave?’

  Bjorn nodded. ‘We did,’ he said, ‘but the trolls found us, and blocked the path.’

  Asgeir counted heads. ‘Where are the others?’ he said. ‘I see three men are missing.’

  ‘I believe Gorm was killed,’ Gest said. ‘I know nothing of the other two.’

  Asgeir scowled. He called men over from the ship, and as Gest and his companions waded over, Asgeir and the others took more flaming brands and entered the tunnel. Gest and Bjorn squatted down by the cooking fire, exhausted.

  ‘Now what?’ Bjorn asked wearily.

  Gest could only shake his head. He looked up as Asgeir and the others returned, leading two more men who had gone astray in the tunnels. They carried between them the mangled form of Gorm.

  Another council of war was held in the stern.

  ‘How many more men will die because of you?’ Asgeir asked bitterly, fixing Gest with accusing eyes. ‘It’s your leman we fight for, king’s man. Why should we not leave you to it?’

  Bjorn growled. ‘The trolls threaten all our lands,’ he said. ‘I admit,’ he added in a conciliatory tone, ‘that defeating them has not proved as easy as I thought. But there must be some way we can take our swords to him, and wipe out the whole nest of them.’

  Asgeir shook his head. ‘Climbing the cliff proved futile. Now this underground route has been blocked, and men have died. And we are no closer to the trolls, from what you say. What do you propose next, Gest? Borrow eagles’ wings and fly up there?’

  Bitter laughter came from the men amidships. Gest surveyed them all.

  ‘There is one path we have yet to try,’ he said when the laughter faded away.

  ‘And what path is that?’ Asgeir asked.

  ‘Through the woods,’ Gest said.

  Asgeir spat over the side. ‘Those woods are impenetrable,’ he said.

  ‘How does anyone know that?’ Bjorn asked. ‘Who has tried to enter them?’

  Asgeir looked about him for confirmation. The men all shook their heads.

  ‘I know the wood is impenetrable,’ said one of them, ‘but I’ve never heard of anyone who tried that way. Why would they? Everyone knows it’s impenetrable.’

  Asgeir laughed scathingly. ‘Very well, king’s man,’ he said. ‘We’ll try that way. Our last attempt. But you can lead the way.’

  When everyone was rested and fed, and the men who had gone up the caves had cleaned the worst of the muck from their clothes, the oarsmen went back to their berths and began to row the longship out of the cave, back into the wide waters of the fjord. To Gest’s dismay, the sun was beginning to set.

  ‘This is no time of day to be exploring impenetrable woods,’ he remarked in an undertone to Bjorn.

  Bjorn looked stolidly forward. ‘We must try it now,’ he said. ‘Or these cowards will cook up another tale to justify their idleness.’

  It was only a short way up the fjord before they had got past the cliffs and were at the foot of the wooded slope that led up the side of the crag. Here they weighed anchor and the gangplank was lowered. Gest went first, followed by Bjorn, stepping up the rocky strand to the edge of the wood. These woods were thicker than those Gest had led them into on his last ill-fated expedition, but he could see no reason to deem them impenetrable. What troubled him was the receding light. It would be night before they reached the summit, even if there was a clear path through the wood.

  But Bjorn was right. If they did not make a move now, they would never be able to rally the men. He drew out his hand axe and forced his way into the trees, cutting down branches on either hand whenever they barred his way.

  A short time later he returned.

  ‘Ha! Impenetrable!’ he exclaimed. ‘It will not be hard going to men of backbone. Follow me. We will cut our way through the trees.’

  And so they did. As darkness fell, they hacked down branches and forced their way through the undergrowth, making their way slowly up steep slopes and climbing rocky crags.

  A short while later, Asgeir called a halt. Gest turned to look at him. The man’s face was a pale blurred oval in the gloom.

  ‘We can’t travel like this,’ Asgeir said. ‘This blackness beneath the trees is darker than those caves.’

  Bjorn grunted. He strode to a nearby pine tree and wrenched off a branch with brute strength, then set fire to one end of the tarry wood with the aid of his tinderbox. Soon a flaming torch was illuminating the faces of the surrounding men.

  ‘Good thinking,’ said Gest approvingly. ‘All of you, find yourselves lengths of wood and light them from Bjorn’s torch.’

  With the aid of torches, the going was much easier, and soon they were tramping amongst pines where there was little undergrowth. Crows and ravens croaked above them as they made their way through the trees, and the darkness grew so great that nothing could be seen beyond the glow of their torches. But they kept going until at last they staggered out of the woods to learn that they were above the treeline.

  ‘We’ve made it,’ said Bjorn exultantly, looking back down the wooded slope. Far below, the light of the newly risen moon gleamed whitely on the waters of Gandsfjord, and the fires of the steadings dotted the fjord banks on the far side. One of them was his own steading, and directly opposite them was the steading of the king, where Gest was steward. But up here the only light other than that of the flaming torches was that of the stars and the far-off moon. Far off, this hazy light glittered on the black waters of the unseen sea.

  ‘Not yet, we haven’t,’ Gest said dourly in answer to Bjorn’s words, and he looked about him. They were standing at the edge of a sweep of moorland on the far side of which the crags stood like towers against the night. ‘Up there we will find the trolls’ cave.’

  Asgeir joined them. ‘The trolls will see us coming with these torches, he said. ‘Or will you lead us into darkness again? You are an ill-fated fellow for a king’s man. How many more must die for your sake?’

  Gest gave him a withering look that went unheeded in the gloom.

  A cold wind blew across the moor. He examined the distant crags as best he could. The dark mouths of caves were still just discernible.

  ‘Very well,’ he said to Asgeir. ‘I will go alone to scout, without a torch. If I find where the trolls have their cave, I will return and then we may all attack.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Bjorn. ‘The rest of you, stay amongst the trees. Make sure your torches cannot be seen from the moor. Don’t be afraid! As long as you do this, the trolls won’t see you in there.’

  ‘It is said that trolls see better in darkness than in daylight,’ Asgeir said grimly.

  Gest and Bjorn made their way across the springy heather. The moor swathed a shelf of rock that stretched between the wooded slopes and the crags themselves. It looked to be about half an hour’s journey, but Gest had not reckoned with th
e peaty streams that rushed across the moor, running in narrow gullies hidden from sight. Narrow as they were, they were too wide to jump, and each time the two men came to one they had to lower themselves down into the cold water and wade across.

  All the time the crags loomed on the horizon, picked out against the stars. Gest could see no hint of movement. Had the trolls seen them coming? They had fought off two attacks already, but no one had ever tried this route.

  ‘What fools these local folk are,’ Bjorn grumbled as they went. ‘They speak of impenetrable woods, of hordes of trolls… Have you ever seen more than one troll?’

  ‘I’ve barely seen one,’ Gest said, ‘but I’m told a large group attacked my steading in Thorstein’s day. It wasn’t a single troll that attacked that time.’

  ‘But was it a troll at all?’ Bjorn asked. ‘Or was it men?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Gest asked.

  ‘Perhaps it was the vikings that are said to be at large in these waters,’ Bjorn suggested.

  Again Gest wondered if Bjorn was not the man Hauk had spoken of. But he had not responded to the watchwords, so that seemed unlikely. Yet he seemed to be Gest’s only ally.

  ‘You said that vikings would not even enter Boknafjord for fear they were seen and the beacon fires were lit,’ he said. ‘How could they get this far?’

  ‘True,’ Bjorn grunted. ‘But what if the beacon was not lit? What if there was treachery afoot? What if Einar had been paid to turn a blind eye?’

  ‘To what end?’ Gest asked. ‘So that Thorstein was surprised and killed in his own hall? Is that what you mean? Did you see anything of this?’

  Bjorn shook his head. ‘Of course not. But I will say this much. A king’s man has cause to be wary in these parts. I think…’

  He broke off and halted. ‘Did you hear that?’ he hissed, crouching low.

  Gest looked about him searchingly. All he heard was the wail of the wind, all he saw was darkness. But above the peaty reek of the moor hung a familiar beast stench. He tensed. The crags still seemed a long way off, but that smell on the wind was unmistakable.