Norseman Raider (The Norseman Chronicles Book 4) (14 page)

After the second rope was tied around the stone with Aoife’s assistance and strung around another tree and secured to all three cows,
each of our crew members found his position and heaved.  This time the second rope afforded room so every man, with the exception of Leif, who stared at the sky, and Horse Ketil, who had quickly tipped over to pretend to fall asleep, had room enough to help.  Even the captured farmer offered his back to the project.  He was now completely curious about what would be found in the barrow that had been a part of his island’s legends for generations.

The additional
six or seven skippund worth of weight tugging on the ropes did the trick.  The stone began scraping against the others as one end slipped upward while the other end stayed put.  It quickly moved high enough that the shovels Magnus and the king used as pry bars no longer helped.  Both men scrambled underneath the colossal stone, putting themselves in precarious positions should either of the ropes snap.  They wedged their backs against the rock and shoved.

The stone felt lighter the higher it traveled so that once we got it moving into a nearly upright position, its weight and momentum took over.  It toppled out of the pathway, crashi
ng into the mound with a monstrous thud before slowly tumbling down into the great ring of stone, wrapping the rope around itself and jerking the cattle and horse back toward the trees we had used as pulleys.

We gave a modest cheer, but our exuberance was short-lived as Godfrey snatched his shovel and began digging out a path under the fallen stone so that the ropes could be unwound.  Soon Magnus then Randulfr joined the king at tossing aside turf and dirt. 
Others began untying the knots and tried to tug them out from under the rock.  They quickly discovered that the king was correct and a path would have to be dug.

Aoife climbed out with her torch to
shed additional light where the men worked.  “King Godfrey, there is nothing of worth in there.”  The king ignored her.

“Shut your mouth,” I told the girl.  We were on the hunt and would not be put off by good sense.  To my astonishment, the girl did shut up. 
Aoife only shook her head in disgust.  She stood there until the ropes were free and then crawled into her cave to repeat the process for the next stone.  And the next and the next.

. . .

Dawn was upon us.  The calves nursed on their mothers’ teats.  Horse Ketil napped.  Leif had sat up, but said nothing since climbing atop the mound.  The men, exhausted, dropped onto their rumps unable to mount a measurable defense against a single draugr let alone a legion of the ghosts, should they come.  Randulfr tried to organize the men into something resembling a formation in case it was not the specters, but Maredubb who came.  No one moved.

Godfrey crouched at the entranceway to the grave.  I held Aoife by the back of her tunic, preventing her from tearing back into the passage that had become a familiar place to her throughout the night.  It was the king’s turn.  I wanted him to lead.

Godfrey peered over his shoulder at us.  “Was there another dry torch in there, girl?” asked the king.

“Aye.  Up the way.”

He nodded.  “Let the girl go in and fetch it for me.”

Aoife craned her face toward mine and gave me a mocking smile.  I dropped her and like a rat in the bilge, she scurried around the king and into the tunnel.  In moments she returned with the torch.  I used my jasper stones to strike it
and the dry-rotted fuel ignited with a poof.

“Lead the way, little miss,” said Godfrey.  Again the girl made a move to mock me.  Before she turned, thou
gh, I smacked her miniscule rear, propelling her into the tunnel.  She fell to her knees, scattering the torch.  I laughed.  The king scolded me.  “We don’t have time for games.”

Aoife returned to her feet.  She stood upright in the tunnel.  Godfrey and I would have to crouch.  We followed her down a narrow passageway made rectangular by rocks that lined its walls and great slabs of stone that acted as a ceiling as they sat on the walls and held up the earthen mound above.  The walls were painted with reds and blues and yellows that had faded over the years since the original workers had interred their king or chieftain
inside the chamber.  I couldn’t see what lay ahead since I followed Godfrey.

After just a few more paces, we entered the main chamber.  It was just short of a fadmr in height
.  I still had to duck.  To the immediate right near the wall, stood the rounded stone pillar Aoife had mentioned.  The walls had spiraling serpent-like designs, not much different from the favored carvings on many stones and homes from my native lands.  I wondered if they were really as old as Eyvind had said.

The king, who still stood in front of me, sighed.  “You see there, Halldorr?  Your little thrall lied.”

My heart jumped.  We had found a treasure at the cost of nothing.  I was yoked to the right king.  He was going to be rich.  Godfrey was going to be a ring-giver.  I stuck my head around Godfrey and looked down at the floor where he and Aoife stared.  I saw the charred remains of a small skeleton.  Next to those burned remains rested another skeleton whose clothes had turned to rags in the years since his burial.  I saw the rotten shields Aoife had talked about.  A bow rested on the dead man’s chest.  Stone-tipped arrows and spears ran along the outside edge of his body serving as a kind of fence.  I saw no treasure.

“She lied?” I asked.
  “It looks just like she said it would.”

King Godfrey kneeled down to the former chieftain of those lands and reached his hand into the ribcage.  The bones crumbled apart.  Godfrey brought his hand back up.  It was balled into a fist.
  When he opened his palm I saw a single gold amulet with a broken cord attached to it.  The ancient king must have worn it around his neck.

“I’ve got a gift of treasure for my queen.  You see?  The girl lied,” he said with sarcasm.
  “The risk of this expedition was worth it.”  It wasn’t, of course.

I scooted around him and rummaged through the rest of the burial
, scattering the remains, not caring if I called down the ire of the gods.  There was nothing of real value.  There was no iron.  I found some small sculptures of wolves and ancient auroch made of copper and bronze.  The king stuffed them into a pouch along with the amulet.  He sighed again and swore as he turned and felt his way out of the passage, leaving the girl and me behind.

“Is this what most strandhoggs are like?” asked Aoife.  “If this is the life of a raider, I’d rather just be a bandit hiding in the woods along a highway.  At least I
would have a better chance of wealth and killing a man or two.”

It was my turn to sigh.  “I don’t know what a strandhogg is usually like.  This is my first.”

The girl swore.  “I’ve yoked myself to the wrong bunch.”

I must say that I agreed with the slave that day.  What little wealth I had was
long gone and, out of drunken desperation or glory-seeking, I had vowed to follow a king who seemed to have little riches and nearly no army.  Any of a hundred sad packs of brigands could wield more power than Godfrey.

We had no treasure, had fought no band of draugr, earned no glory, and yet we still had to run through the countryside,
and return to our ships and Man.  Once there, I was certain that if the king wasn’t deposed by the weak force of the village simpleton, then his subjects’ laughter would drive Godfrey to jump from the cliffs into the sea.

In a day’s time I might be fleeing to yet another destination
, trying to glom onto another king.

But we had to survive the coming day.

CH
APTER 4

The docile cows and their bleating calves were released to the surrounding pasture so that their owner could find them when he came out of his hovel, wherever that was.  Supplies were stowed in knapsacks and the ropes rewound amidst murmurs.  My fellow Greenlanders, save Leif, grumbled about the wasted expedition.  Even Godfrey’s core group of men wore sullen scowls.  If they had been bent on throwing their lives away, why not just attack the Dal Riatans again with their limited numbers?  At least then they’d die with the splendor of revenge on their souls.  Godfrey did nothing to chastise either set of his small number of followers since, I think, he believed that his days as King of the Isles were numbered.

“Let’s move quickly,” he said
somberly, his usual enthusiasm vanished.  The men and the captive moved out through the alders after Godfrey.  The farmer, who should have been pleased that we took him toward his home, walked with eyes staring at his boots, as dejected as the rest.

“Stay with them,” I whispered to Aoife as I turned back to retrieve Leif, who now stood on the barrow lost in thought.  To my astonishment the girl nodded her agreement without argument and trotted off, carrying my heavy pack for me.

Leif stroked his wispy red beard.  “I mean to be a wise, moderate leader of men.”

“That’s fine, but you’ll lead only cows and a pile of worthless rubble if you stay here.”

Leif reached up and smacked my broad shoulder.  He guided us down the mound.  “The old stories are true.  If a man finds the fortitude to remain awake on a barrow mound overnight, the gods afford him insight.”

I shook my head at him.  Insight!  What, did
Leif think he could see around all the problems the norns tossed in our way?  Preposterous!  Nothing in my experience demonstrated that any amount of knowledge or foresight could help a man navigate the world.  Just when you had conquered the last demon and stood fixed and armed for the next beast, a simple plump woman could come to you from the side and annihilate all your plans.  Her lips would call you like a siren.  Her lashes would wave you into the rocks and shoals.  My life had been thus.  It seemed that I had strapped myself to a king who would have the same experience.  His bane was to be a fairy tale told by a troublesome skald.  When would I find a great, triumphant king whom I could follow?

We walked out into the waving grass of the pasture and jogged across to the next woods where Aoife had just disappeared.  “Did the gods tel
l you where to find Godfrey a treasure and boats?”

“No,” Leif answered in a manner that said that the spirits had
, in fact, revealed to him an even better way forward.

“What then?”

“I can tell Godfrey only when he is ready.”  Leif paused just before we plunged into the woods.  He cocked his ear to the wind.  “While you were all toiling at the futile excavation,” he began.

“Futile?  It was all your idea.”

“Yes, but the thrall told you what was in the grave before the lot of you had moved an ounce of rock.  Godfrey spared her for something.  I bought her for you for something.  We ought to have listened to the girl rather than waste strength and time.”  He cupped his hand to his ear and closed his eyes, listening.  “I heard sounds brought on the still air last night while you worked.  They are the sounds of an army searching for us.  And that army will be the means to victory for our king.”

Leif raised his eyebrows mischievously and jumped into the woods, trotting to catch up with the rest of our raiding band.  I swore about the lad.  What did he know? 
He was the son of a murderer who was also the son of a murderer.  Leif wasn’t even the oldest son.  He was the second son.  How much more worthless could he be?  He was like the fifth, dry teat on a newly freshened heifer.  If the newborn calf found the dry teat as its favorite, the foolish beast would starve in a day.  How much would I be like the calf if I listened to the boy’s idiotic pronouncements?

I moved a step into the forest and then swore again.  I cocked my ear into the wind and listened as I had seen Leif.  He was crazy, I thought.  There was no sound.

Until, there was a sound.  In the distance, though out of my line of sight, was the faint sound of men’s voices shouting and calling to one another.  Their voices interrupted and pierced the constant low rumbling of another sound.  Hooves, hundreds of them, growled their way over a nearby road or hard-packed meadow.

Maredubb’s army was approaching.
  They searched for a group of Norse raiders, seen by the farmer’s fellow workers.

They hunted, bent on
killing us.

. . .

Yet, Leif had said that the wandering army would be our way to victory.

“Kill the farmer,” Godfrey barked.

“I’ll do it,” called Aoife.

Everyone ignored her as the humor of her eagerness was lost on the desperate nature of our situation.  “It should be me,” said Killian.  “It was I who helped get him into this situation and it was I who assured him of his safety.”

“Make it fast.  We can’t have him calling to Maredubb’s army,” said the king.  Ketil grinned while leaning against a tree.  He casually picked at a hangnail.  Horse Ketil appeared rested and fresh after avoiding all of last night’s labor.  His confidence was peaking while Godfrey’s was waning.

“
If
that is his army we hear.  We haven’t laid eyes on it yet,” said Randulfr.  He stared back and forth at Leif and Ketil with accusing eyes.  The hardened warrior of countless campaigns with Godfrey found that his future path was dictated by a slim, unproven young man who was on his side and, perhaps, by a slimy traitor who was decidedly against him.  Randulfr was unhappy.

Killian walked to face the farmer who had heard the same ruckus from the horsemen and sensed our unease.  The priest gave him a calming smile saying, “May you enter heaven at peace my son.  May your sins be washed white by the perfect blood of Christ.  May the same go for mine.”  Killian drew a long knife.  The blade was thinner and narrower than a saex like the one I carried.
  He plunged it into the farmer’s exposed throat, not stopping until his fist rammed into our captive’s wind pipe.  A look of wide-eyed surprise appeared at once on the dying man’s face.

I could tell you it was the last time I saw such a sight, but that would be a lie.  From that raid until now, I have watched all manners of men die in all manners.  I’ve seen villains who deserved death and outstanding men who were noble and true meet their ends.  To a man, each was shocked that it had come to them.  You’d think they would expect it.  Life is nothing but a runaway horse ride toward
death’s cliff.  I enter every battle with the expectation I’ll die.  I’ve come close a dozen times.  But if I’m honest with myself, I suppose that when those last moments come and if I find myself holding my innards in my hands and pissing in my pants, I imagine that I’ll have the same look.  Though every man dies, its arrival is always most unexpected.

Killian stepped to the farmer and used an amazing amount of strength given his
small stature to lower the captive to last year’s fallen leaves that still littered the forest floor.  The priest crossed himself and rested a palm on the man’s forehead as the farmer’s legs jerked violently.  Then the man was quiet while Killian withdrew his blade and cleaned it on his own robes.

Leif turned his attention from the dead man to answer Randulfr’s charge.  “You and King Godfrey have raided here before and I dare say that you know there is no wealth on this island. 
Neither ealdorman nor thegn could afford to pay for the number of men we heard clamoring about and making that racket.  It must be King Maredubb.”

Godfrey nodded and waved a hand to Randulfr.  “The Greenlander is right.  There is nothing here.  We should never have come.  Now we’ll die, hemmed inland
like hogs.  What is a sea king doing in a forest?”

“
This is perfect,” giggled Ketil.

“Shut up, you conniving turd,” snarled Godfrey. 
It was like the praise the king heaped on Horse Ketil for rounding up the cows in the middle of the night had never occurred.  “I know you’d like me to fall.  It’s a game we all play while we say nothing of it.  Shut up.”

“I’m happy to discuss the game we all play,” said Ketil.

“The way I figure it,” interrupted Leif, seemingly unaware of the confrontation going on around him, “is that we’ve got until the midday meal to assemble our own army.  It makes no sense to face Maredubb without one.”

“My wife may find you enchanting, son of Erik, but your charms are quickly lost on me.  Our best course is to skitter from woods to woods and return to our ships.”  The king turned to Loki, Magnus, and Brandr.  “You men run to the edges of the wood.  See
if you can lay eyes on Maredubb.  Crawl.  Do whatever it takes to avoid being seen.”  The three ran off.

“If you
depart here without treasure or other riches, you’ll be forced to leave your kingdom behind within the year, or worse,” surmised Leif.

“I will,” agreed Godfrey.
  That wasn’t a revelation to anyone.  Ketil stood a little taller.

“And he’ll be king in your place,” said Leif
, jerking a thumb at the Manx noble.

“Unless I kill him,” said Godfrey.

“Then it will just be someone else, another Manx or maybe a Dal Riatan,” continued Leif.

“Or, perhaps Maredubb will cross from here and take over,” said Ketil, goading the king.

Godfrey set a hand on the hilt of his sword.  “Shut up.”

“
So, King Godfrey, to avoid all that, we must leave here with wealth.”  Leif was dogged in his pursuit of the plan rattling in his head.

“There is no wealth,” shouted
Godfrey.  “Their churches have nothing but wooden crosses and stale wine made from moldy grapes.  I know because I’ve raided them, all of them.  Other than the absent treasure there is nothing here!”

“Then why would Maredubb fight to protect it and make it his if there is nothing?” asked Leif.

It was a good question, I thought.  Godfrey balled his fist and struck Leif on his cheek.  Leif went down into a heap, rolled and sprang back up to his knees.  He winced as he touched a quickly growing blue mark on his face.  “King Godfrey, I mean no disrespect, but there must be some value on Anglesey.”

“I don’t know what they teach you, boy.  Of course there’s value.  They raise crops that go to the mainland.  Do you propose that the sixty of us gather sacks of barley and haul it on our backs?  Will sixty sacks of grain get me back my kingdom?  Dolt!” he exclaimed.

Leif was undaunted.  “No.  Where is Maredubb’s power?  Where’s his capital?”

Godfrey scanned the woods for the quick return of his scouts.  They
didn’t come.  “Aberffraw!” barked the king.  “It’s on the southwestern side of the island, opposite where we landed yesterday.”

“Then instead of fleeing toward our ships, let us move in the opposite direction of that army out there.  Let’s move on Aberffraw, take the village as ours and demand a ransom for her return.”

Magnus ran back into the circle that surrounded the king and Leif.  “There must be five hundred horsemen.  They didn’t spot me and they haven’t caught our track.  I don’t know how they knew we were here.”

“
The farmer’s lungs warned his family yesterday.  Or, the trees have eyes,” answered the king, bitterly.  “Which direction do they move?”

“North and east,” said Magnus.  “
Toward our ships.  They move in the same direction we mean to go.”

The king was shaking his head in disgust.  I knew he had made a decision with which his own min
d didn’t agree.  “No, they don’t.  They run east.  We move west to capture a capital and an island.”

. . .

Some poor traveler was going to be surprised.  He would find a perfectly good horse, fit for our king, abandoned with saddle and bridle, seemingly forgotten.  Perhaps even more surprising than such a fine beast, the traveler would also come across a mass of red, blonde, and brown hair tucked beneath a rotted log that sat next to a large smooth lake.  The priest had insisted that we all get our long locks cut, something that, to a man, caused each of us to curse.  It was mandatory, Killian said, if we were to look like helpless Welsh farmers that had fled ahead of a vicious Viking onslaught.  I mumbled and grumbled while I watched the men grab a thick mat of their hair and cut it off with a saex.  Just a small trim was all my hair had received in five years and now I was to lose it as part of a scheme dreamt up by Leif and an Irish priest.  They were both mad as far as I was concerned.  Yet, even the king sat down on the log and allowed Killian to cut off the longest portion of his hair.  Godfrey stayed the priest’s hand, however, when he reached to swipe off the braids in his beard.  “That will be good enough to get past the guards,” said the king.

“Why can’t we just tuck our hair in our helmets?” I whined as I plopped down on the log, the last one to go.  I couldn’t bring myself to cut my own hair.

“Because it’s not common for a band of Welsh refugees to come wearing armor, even armor as dented and tarnished as yours.  As for your hair, you get to keep it.”  I immediately grinned and gave the now naked looking Magnus a mocking face.  “You’ll be our Norse prisoner,” Killian said.  My shoulders sunk.