Norseman Raider (The Norseman Chronicles Book 4) Read online

  “You’re an enigma, my Norse brother – a Norseman who doesn’t know where some of the easiest pillaging in the Irish Sea is to be had.” Eyvind shook his head. “With fair winds, the northernmost point of Wales can be reached from Man in just a morning of sail.”

  I didn’t like being called an enigma, whatever that was. I also didn’t like being told I didn’t know where things were. Ha! As I now sit, old, feeble, and shivering in a smoky room writing these yarns on parchment I made last week, I laugh at my young self! Of course, I knew nothing. That night, I curled my lip, baring my teeth like a wolf to show Eyvind I was displeased.

  Eyvind took what was left in his ale mug and dumped it in mine. “There,” he said, “a peace offering for your wounded pride. Now there’s no need to thump me. I’m a poet. You’d have me whimpering on the floor in an eye’s blink. Then you’d have to explain to the king over there why you attacked his favorite skald.” Eyvind appeared ready for whatever came, a beating or conversation. I rightfully laughed at myself and drank his ale.

  “I travel from court to court in these Isles. I’ve been to Kvaran and his son, Sitric, in Dyflin. I’ve been to Aethelred in England. I’ve even told tales to the Irish kings from the north, the Ui Neill, and from the south, the Leinster.” I listened, happy I had more ale, because I understood nothing of what Eyvind said. “I’ve even spoken to the local ruler; he thinks himself a king, but he is under Aethelred’s thumb, in northern Wales. He’s called Maredubb.”

  “This is a boring story. Can you go back to telling me poetry?” I thought myself funny, using words rather than my fist to get Eyvind back. He kept on going. Far away, near the walls at the edge of the village, the first cock of the morning called his warning.

  “Maredubb talks incessantly,” said Eyvind. Horse Ketil was stirring again. He was the most restless passed-out man I’d ever seen. “He certainly talks more than what a king ought. He says this and he says that. A king ought to make his will happen without constant blabbering. At any rate, the man talks even more when he is drunk on ale and on my last visit, he was drunk on both mead and ale. His head, the next morning, must have felt like it was the size of well-laden knarr.”

  “This King Maredubb sounds like half the men I know. He sounds like almost all the men in this hall, mostly unremarkable.” I brought the cup back up and found myself tipping it higher and higher, my head back further and further. It was empty. Just to make sure, I brought it in front of my eyes and stared down at the dry bottom. I had trouble focusing. Gudruna, the king’s wife, moaned in pleasure at something Leif did with her under his cloak.

  “The men in this hall, if they get toppling drunk, can say nothing of value. But a king just might say something worth noting. Maredubb told me of a great treasure.”

  My eyes rapidly came into focus. My head cleared. The cup went to the table and I studied Eyvind’s face. “Treasure?”

  Horse Ketil cleared his throat. It was apparent that he was sobering up as much as me at the talk of money. It might mean more ale for him, I suppose. Or, if he ever quit the drink, his eavesdropping could prove to be a real danger to the king and his court.

  “Suddenly my tale is not so boring? Suddenly you are sober?” Eyvind yawned and stretched his arms wide. “Well, it has been a long night. I’m going to find a lightweight man to drag away from the hearth so that I can take his place by the fire.” Eyvind stood, but I clasped my hand on his mail shirt and tugged him back down. He sank without a fight.

  “Talk.” I was desperate for money. Mine was gone, pissed away in a few weeks time as I tried to forget my banishment and console myself with merry. If Godfrey’s army would be a failure and no invasion of this Dal Riata would occur, I meant to find myself some treasure. I’d make my own glory rather than following an erstwhile king.

  Eyvind dove into his story quite willingly. “There was a great king who lived in Wales, on an island called Anglesey. He lived there long ago, long ago. He reined before the Jutes and Saxons came to England. This king reigned in the wilds of Wales before the Roman Claudius came, even before the Roman Julius came.” There was another reference to those Romans. “Before even steel was invented, this king ruled.”

  “By Hel,” I barked. “I understand that it was long ago. Tell me about this treasure.”

  “It’s important that you know just how ancient is this treasure. When this king died – Maredubb wasn’t able to share his name for he didn’t know it, it was so long ago – he was buried in a great mound. Inside with him went his riches, bejeweled weapons and metals like copper, silver, and gold formed into magnificent works.”

  “If Maredubb knows all this, I’m sure he or his people have rummaged through it by now,” I said with a wave of my hand at the preposterous story. I thought that I should be sleeping.

  “That’s just it. No one has touched it, though it stands in the open and a blind child could stumble across the mound by accident.”

  “I don’t believe it. Why would someone not dig up the mound at night and become the new and richest king?”

  Eyvind frowned. “Because the king also had one thousand of his best soldiers sacrificed and buried with him. This ancient king humps forty of his wives so that they plow their way through eternity behind the able guard of a regiment of the dead. The mound is cursed. It requires no human sentinels. No one has touched it for thousands of years. No one will touch it now.”

  Gudruna yelped. Eyvind and I both looked over to where Leif was climbing out from under the queen. Her dress was bunched up around her waist so I could see her naked legs and bare chest. She wore a surprised and disappointed look on her face as if Leif had cut off their union prematurely. He was young, I thought with a shrug. The woman couldn’t expect him to last very long.

  The queen moved to gather up her clothes and leave, but Leif gently set a hand on her side to hold her in place. “An unguarded treasure?” Leif asked Eyvind. Gudruna looked confused. Clearly, she had been attuned to the desires of her loins more than my conversation.

  “That’s not what I said,” answered Eyvind. “No man guards it.”

  Leif looked at me. His eyes flashed as his terrific and thoughtful mind worked its sorcery. Leif pulled Gudruna to him so their naked torsos barely touched. “And our King Godfrey needs wealth to rebuild an army to exact his revenge on Dal Riata. What better way to obtain money, than to steal it from a useless corpse?”

  Eyvind and I were both shaking our heads. “Leif, you know the power of the dead,” I scolded. “Think of your night on the barrow mound. Think of our encounter with the skraelings and all that brought. Death brings death. It is as sure as a man and woman, living, bring more life.”

  “Halldorr’s right,” said Eyvind. “It’s a tale. I believe it to be true. I told it not to inspire action, but to entertain. I’m a simple skald, telling yarns for coin.”

  Leif and Gudruna were nodding their heads in agreement, with neither Eyvind nor me, but rather each other. They had already set their minds on a treasure, free for the taking. Without looking away from the queen, Leif said, “Halldorr, you were moments ago just as interested as I am now.”

  “That was before I found out the grave was cursed,” I protested.

  “And I wasn’t interested until I found out it was. Men with a spear can kill us, but draugr, or specters will . . .”

  “Terrify us and then kill us,” I finished his sentence.

  “Will embrace us as their own,” corrected Leif. “We will free them from their eternal burden of vigilance. We will take the riches of the ancient king and use them for today’s king to build a great land.” I remember thinking that I had wanted the treasure for myself, not necessarily for Godfrey. Now we were talking about sharing it, giving it away. “This Anglesey will be part of a great kingdom, ruled by King Godfrey and Queen Gudruna.”

  Leif moved away from Gudruna and took a step toward where the king now slumbered curled up next to his housemaid and thrall. The queen halted Leif with a light touch. “You
will propose to capture this treasure with and for my husband so that he may build a stronger kingdom?”

  “Of course,” answered Leif as if it was the only possible choice.

  Gudruna glanced over to her husband with pride. She firmly grasped Leif’s arm and drew him close. “The hour is late and the king is tired. One morning of delay will not harm the outcome.” She sat back to the ground and tugged Leif down with her. “And you have work to finish for your queen.” Gudruna again pulled Leif’s cloak over them. Their childish giggling resumed.

  Eyvind looked back to me. “It seems like your friend means to use my yarn to lead you to your death.”

  It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. I raised my mug to offer a toast. “I thank you, troublesome skald.” I brought the mug to my lips and remembered it was empty. I tipped it over my mouth and shook it until one last drop of the brew fell onto my extended tongue.

  My hands slapped down on the table and I pushed myself up. I left Eyvind to find a place to sleep and picked my way through the crowd of snoozing bodies on the floor. I pushed the doors of the hall open and went out into the cool morning.

  A slight ray of sun had just begun breaking over the horizon to the east. Two thralls, already starting their days, carried buckets of water for their masters. Killian, who I had not even seen leave the assembly when Eyvind finished his tales, used a wicker broom to brush off the dirt walkway of his church. Despite staying up as long as me, the priest seemed to have bountiful energy. “Good morning to you Norseman!” he called. “It looks to be a beautiful day.”

  I grunted something incomprehensible in return and staggered toward the great stone with Odin’s likeness carved on it. I patted the image with my hand and smiled, thinking of home and my first and second fathers. The stone felt warm despite the chill from the night air. I pulled my cloak tightly around me and sat down with my back resting against the marker.

  I fell asleep, my dreams turning to nightmares of draugr and warriors, death and failure.

  CHAP

  TER 2

  I awakened sometime after the midday meal and found that my back ached where it had rested at an awkward angle against Odin’s and the One God’s shared stone. But I was young and in just a matter of moments, the pain was a mere memory. My fractured fingers still throbbed with every beat of my heart. I could already begin to see a slit of light through my swollen eye.

  Killian had taken pity on me sometime during the morning and covered my shivering form in a blanket made of the wool from the many sheep inhabiting the island. It was actually a stray, flapping fiber from the well-worn blanket that awakened me when a breeze caused the errant thread to repeatedly brush against my nostrils.

  As I came back to life, I sat up and stretched. The village was alive with the activities expected in early summer. Hungry, thieving gulls raced overhead, heading inland and then back out to the shingle where fishermen were already returning with their catch. The stench of a tanner’s craft wafted from a nearby street. A smith’s hammer split the afternoon. So did his echoing voice as he screamed at his apprentice for working the bellows too hard and blowing his fire too high.

  My belly was in the process of eating itself so it was a welcome sight indeed to see the small priest shuffle across the square carrying a platter of bread and fish. Killian wore what I had supposed was his typical priestly robe. It was white. He or a servant must have taken great care in laundering it because the color was not faded or yellowed. Instead, the robe was as white as a baby’s first teeth. At the bottom hem, though, his actions of the day had already splashed the robe with flecks of dirt and mud. The sleeves of the garment came just to his hand and were wide, shaped like a bell, flaring out. The cuffs had deep violet piping at the edges. He wore a simple, but fine, white cord of three strands for a belt. The rope’s ends bounced down at one of his knees as he scurried. Killian bent down and offered the food without asking whether or not I was hungry.

  Likewise, without asking, I greedily snatched up the bread and tore it in half before stuffing a large hunk into my mouth. Though my mouth was parched from all my drinking, the dry bread tasted good. Killian set the plate on my lap and crouched so that he balanced on the balls of his feet. I could see his footwear for the first time. They weren’t the sandals that I would later see on monks or the fancier shoes preferred by many priests. Killian wore boots much like mine. He wore woolen trousers too, also like those I wore. Beneath his royal-looking garb, Killian was a working, or perhaps, fighting man at heart.

  A second enormous bite of bread slid down my gullet. I jammed a section of the salted fish in closely behind. Through my gnawing I asked, “What price is the food, priest?” I wasn’t sure what to call the man. I had heard the Christians call him father, but I already pined for my first and second fathers, so I was in no hurry to add another.

  Killian allowed a smile to draw upon his small face. It seemed to nearly swallow his head, it was so broad. “Young traveler, I was under the impression that you had no money left. Your man, Leif, has not been shy in telling your plight.”

  I actually had a few copper pennies, English I think they were, and one silver Kufic that had come to me on some circuitous trade route from a land of deserts. I wasn’t destitute, but it would be only a matter of days before I would have to sell my arm ring from Erik, the brooch I used to fasten my cloak, or even my walrus tusk comb just to eat. “Then what did you expect in return?” I began eating faster in order to quickly fill my stomach in case he gave me terms with which I’d not agree.

  “There’s no need to gorge yourself,” Killian said, tut-tut-ting. “If you need more, we can find you some.”

  “What’s the price?” I asked, not believing him.

  “The price has been paid,” he answered.

  “Leif?” I asked. “Another of my crew? I don’t need any charity from them.”

  He shook his head.

  “Not King Godfrey?” I asked.

  “You are one of his sworn men now and so it would be in his interest to keep you alive so that you may do the same for him when the time comes. But no, the king did not buy you a meal.” Killian plopped his rump down in the dirt. It made me cringe to think of how filthy his clean, white robes would get. He didn’t seem to care. “A man who was God and was of God, long ago paid the price for all of us. I simply do my feeble best to extend his sacrifice to others. Just now, it happens to be you.”

  He spoke in mysteries to me. I now know all there is to know about the One True God and his only Son, the Christ, Jesus and his sacrifice for all mankind. I’ve read the God-inspired words of his book. I’ve served a holy and devout king who himself converted thousands upon thousands of my countrymen to the faith of the One True God. But that is for a different tale at a different time. Suffice it to say, I understood nothing of what Killian said that day.

  He could tell. “You come from Iceland and this new land, Greenland?”

  “Yes, and I’ve never known a Christian. My father and all his fathers before him followed our gods.” I pointed to the image of Odin above my head and behind me. “He’s one of them.”

  Killian studied me. Looking back on it now, I think the feisty, little priest saw something in me that day. I think the One God told him that with patient care, I’d be a follower of His. “I’ve heard how the fire and frost giants formed the world. It’s hard not to hear the tales with so many Danes and Norseman plodding about. I know of your Odin and Thor. I know of your Midgard Serpent. I know of the Yggdrasil Tree.”

  I was impressed that he could recite some names from my Norse past. “But do you know what goes on beneath the tree, in and among the moist, dirty roots?” Crumbs were scattering down my chest.

  The question was too easy for him. He had served as a Christian priest in a part of the world that had been subject to raids from Norsemen for over a hundred years. “Oh, you mean the three norns, Urdr, Verdandi, and Skuld – what was, what is, and what will be – those women who spin the thread
of every man’s life?”

  He said it, not in a mocking way. Killian answered me in a matter-of-fact manner. I was left wondering whether he believed in the norns or not. I for one did believe. It was not so much that I believed, I suppose. I knew them to exist, especially the malevolent ones. The norns spun the fate of everyone, but I knew those three women were active and probably enjoying themselves as they toyed with my life. My thread, I always thought, was more akin to a coarse piece of unraveling twine, the three cords of the past, present, and future fraying, preparing to snap. The norns pushed me left just after I became comfortable gliding right. They killed my mother before I was old enough to know her. They killed my father just when I was getting old enough to know him. The norns sent me to Erik, who was a fair, but rough man. Then after I had followed him to Iceland then Greenland and just when I was convinced I would settle, serving him and raising a brood of children with his daughter, he banished me. I was an exile by accident, I thought. So, I believed in and knew the norns intimately.

  “We Christians believe in those concepts,” said Killian, playing with his rope belt with his fingers, “of a fashion. We call it God’s Providence or just Providence. I think you’ll be surprised by all that Providence has to offer you in your life.”

  The bread was gone. The fish was gone. I began to stir and so Killian sprang to his feet and pulled me up. He was surprisingly strong for such a little man. My back creaked like someone twice my age.

  “I cannot be surprised any longer,” I began.

  The priest scoffed at me. “You’re too young to have seen it all. Just wait.”

  “I haven’t seen it all. I meant that nothing goes as I plan. It’s gotten worse since I fell in with Leif. Nonetheless, where he goes, I will follow since I owe his father everything. I suppose it will be all the worse now that Leif and I both serve King Godfrey. The two of them together will work with the norns or your Providence to see the death of me.”