Viking Revolt

by Gavin Chappell

  Bjorn shook his head. ‘Particularly since Earl Sigvaldi must have drowned in the fight.’

  Gest shrugged. ‘So it seems,’ he replied. ‘None found his corpse amongst the dead after the fight, but if he had fallen into the water fully armed, he would have gone to the bottom. It was Einar who you killed aboard the dragon ship. His death broke the back of the resistance, and the remaining Rogalanders surrendered. Most were slain that day.’

  ‘You would have seen little of this,’ Bjorn said, ‘lying bound and at the mercy of that whore.’

  Gest looked sadly away. Hild’s brutal death had distressed him. She had been working against the king, she had ready to slit his throat at the slightest provocation. But he had come to know her during their brief time together, to understand her, perhaps. Her sorrows at the hands of the king’s son had been enough to make anyone yearn for vengeance. Bjorn’s coming had saved him from death at her hands, but he felt pity for her.

  ‘I would have died there,’ Gest said, ‘almost certainly. She had orders to kill me, if the day was lost and they had no hope of using me as a hostage. Only your coming averted that.’

  Bjorn shrugged. ‘None of that would have happened,’ he said, ‘if you had not had the foresight to send me in search of the king. Harald Finehair said as much at the banquet last night, even if he did not refer to you by name. I thought it a shame, that, since none knew who it was who sent me to bring word to the king.’

  Gest laughed, and Hauk laughed with him. ‘We in the Gestasveit are not like other men,’ he told him, ‘seeking fame and honour. Our lives are spent in the shadow of the king, working for him, often outside the law. We slay in the night, we spy in secret, and our names and faces cannot be known. Believe me, it is enough for me that I have the gratitude of the king. Hrafnsvart, the chief of the Gestasveit, told me how pleased he is by what we did here. I have the king’s gratitude, and you have the glory. Besides,’ Gest added with a laugh, ‘the outcome would be entirely different if you had not warned the king, and told him of my own plans.’

  ‘For the king to sail west as if on his yearly cruise against the vikings,’ Hauk mused. ‘It was a desperate gamble.’

  ‘It would have been better if we could have learnt where the fleet was kept,’ Gest said, ‘and lead the king’s ships to destroy them. But it seemed better to draw them out into the open, since when I sent Bjorn to the king I did not know the full extent of the plot. I only knew an attack was planned on Kaupang. Until I joined the fleet, I did not know that they were other ships than those I had earlier found. Nay,’ he shook his head. ‘It was better this way. But if Sigfrid Redhand had not been a Gestasveit man, however ambiguous his loyalties may have been, it would have been a much riskier matter. As it was, the king’s fleet took less than an hour to sink the rebel ships.’

  ‘It must have been a tense hour for you,’ Hauk observed, ‘penned up with a madwoman with her knife at your throat.’

  Gest nodded. ‘A shameful death it would have been, slain by a woman,’ he observed. ‘And yet, no great loss if the kingdom was saved.’

  Going to the doorway he looked out at the busy street. No one would have thought that this thriving town had ever been at risk of being razed to the ground, every man, woman and child slain in an attempt to break the power of the king. What had stirred the earl to hatch such a desperate scheme? Had it been vengeance for the deaths of his uncles; vengeance, that duty of every kinsman? Had he really thought that his own flyspeck of a land would have thrived in the chaos that would have existed after the king’s power was broken?

  From here Gest could see the gables of the king’s hall, where even now Harald Finehair was sitting in state, planning the next move in his constant struggle to rule this wide and unruly land of Norway. Perhaps the earl had hoped that in the wars that came, Rogaland would come out on top, and he would be sole ruler in King Harald’s stead. But it was unlikely. Kaupang’s very position in relation to the trade routes was what made it an ideal location for a trading town. It had first been settled by Danes for that reason, to dominate the trade with the north, furs and other costly items from Finnmark and beyond. Rogaland was not a place from which a king could control trade, as King Harald Finehair had come to.

  He thought of what he had said to his friends. Did he truly believe his words? That his own life was worth less than the peace and wealth of the kingdom? Of course not. Dying was the last thing he meant to do. He had found a good berth in the Gestasveit, and this latest coup would increase his standing in the eyes of the king. But what would that mean? More work, more missions.

  The pay was by no means meagre, but he knew full well that a life in the Gestasveit had only one end, and that was an unsung death. But what else could he hope for? He had been an outlaw when he came to Tunsberg, owning nothing but the sword in his hand and the shirt on his back. In the Gestasveit he had found friendship, fellowship, and freedom of a sort. But his most faithful companion would always be death. Hel, queen of the underworld, would claim him in the end.

  Sombrely he went back into the workshop. Hauk and Bjorn looked up from the board game they had begun.

  ‘So it will soon be farewell,’ Bjorn commented. His pieces were struggling to surround Hauk’s king piece. ‘I will return to my steading in Rogaland, where now Sigfrid Redhand is earl. And you, Gest, will go on to your next mission for the Gestasveit.’

  Gest glanced at Hauk. Hauk smiled. ‘You may be certain that we will not forget how you have helped us, Bjorn,’ he said, indicating the gold arm rings that the farmer now wore, gifts from Harald Finehair. ‘You have the gratitude of the king, and the Gestasveit count you as a friend. And perhaps more.’

  Bjorn looked from one to the other. ‘More?’ he rumbled uneasily. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Gest sat down. ‘We are impressed by your skills and your loyalty,’ he said. ‘Our chief, Hrafnsvart, wished us to offer you a place in the Gestasveit.’

  Bjorn seemed astounded. He shook his head vigorously. ‘I have a wife and bairns,’ he said. ‘I cannot follow the wild life that you lead, Gest. My loyalties must be firstly to hearth and home. I must return as soon as I can. Who knows how ill the steading has been steered in my absence? They need me.’

  ‘The king also needs you,’ said Gest. ‘He needs every loyal man he can find. And you have proved yourself a good and loyal subject. Now we want you to work for us…’

  Bjorn rose. ‘I must return to Rogaland,’ he said. ‘I have the utmost of respect for the work you do, Gest. The king needs you. And I am proud to have fought at your side, fought for the king. But there comes an end to every adventure, when a man must return to his own hearth, to settle down. I could not live the life you lead…’

  ‘Peace, Bjorn,’ Gest said, lifting a hand for silence. ‘No one is asking you to abandon your kin, or your adopted homeland. We already have a spy in those waters—Sigfrid Redhand himself rules there as earl. But can he be wholly trusted? Also there is a need for a steward for the king’s steadings and estates in Rogaland. Such a man would be well paid in return for his work, but he would have other duties.’

  ‘The king is offering me the post of steward of his lands in Rogaland?’ Bjorn asked. ‘It would make me a man of great importance, second only to the earl! But what are these other duties?’

  Hauk leaned forwards, and with one move slid his king to the edge of the board. The game was almost won, but Bjorn did not see. ‘All the steward would need to do is to keep his eyes and ears open. Learn what is happening in Rogaland. Speak with folk who are in the know. Keep us informed as to anything untoward. A steward has much freedom, since he has many thralls to carry out his duties on his steadings. And he would be well paid. His wife and bairns would live in riches.’

  ‘And this is what you want of me?’ Bjorn asked. ‘Nothing that would take me away from my kin, or put them at risk? Simply to keep an eye on the land and to send you word of anything untoward? I don’t see why I couldn’t do that... Why, I thought yo
u were asking me to become a spy!’ He looked at Gest. ‘I could not live your life, friend, but all you are asking of me is what any loyal subject might do in return for the honours that the king has heaped upon me.’

  ‘Then you agree?’ Gest asked. He shook Bjorn’s hand vigorously. ‘My thanks, and the thanks of the king, go with you. Sigfrid Redhand leaves tomorrow on the morning tide, and you will have a berth with him. And Bjorn…?’

  ‘Aye, friend?’

  ‘Welcome to the Gestasveit.’