Norseman Raider (The Norseman Chronicles Book 4) (39 page)

Both armies paused.  It was just a moment, I know.  Maybe it was less than a heartbeat.  It seemed to go on for hours as only the truly outrageous surprises in the middle of a battle can.  Our hearts melted in that moment. 
My brothers – Danes, Norsemen, Greenlanders, Manx, and even Irish and Welsh – and I lost our will.  The combined souls of the Dal Riatan and Maredubb’s armies swelled.

“Slaughter them!” called Maredubb.

They did.

. . .

We broke.  Our asses faced the fort’s defenders and we ran down the hill.  As any of you who have had the fortune to participate in a great war know, turning your back to flee invites even more carnage than what you were trying to escape in the first place.  But for a fleeting pulse, it feels like you are doing something to remedy the situation.

Until the pursuers lock in their aim.

The rear ranks of Maredubb’s army forced their way out.  They wanted a part in the victory.  They knocked down the front ranks and heaved spears into the sky.  One after another arced over the killing field.  They slammed into the backs of terrified warriors.

I thundered to a halt at Aoife’s body.  My comrades ran into and around me.  I looked at their faces.  Gone was all bravado.  Fled was all valor.  They were replaced with the wide-eyed,
vacant stare of fear.  Seeing my friends thus made me ashamed for a heartbeat.  Then I remembered that I would look the same to them.  I bent down and scooped Aoife into my arms.  An arrow grazed my shoulder, but I held on.

I wanted to hug the little creature and forget the horrors of the day.  I didn’t care if I would die with her, with Godfrey and the rest.  You know I didn’t, however, for I lived to pen this tale.  It wasn’t me who got me moving.  Her peaceful face slapped me back to reality.  From her next life, Aoife shouted at me.  She tugged on my finger and kicked my shin.  “Run, you fool!  Run!”

I did.

We burst into the trees and down into the River Add.  A few men went straight through
into the unknown wilderness of Dal Riata.  Several more turned right and ran into the thinning waters upstream.  Calm-headed Leif gathered the rest of us together.  “Lose your weight,” he said as he stripped himself of anything that wasn’t needed.  His helmet, his mail, his jerkin, all of it splashed into the water.  “You should leave her, Halldorr.”

“I’ll not!” I yelled as I and the others dropped everything of excess weight into the flowing water.

“He won’t,” said Randulfr.  Godfrey’s lieutenant looked at me and gave a nod.  He understood.  Randulfr turned with a defiant gaze to Leif.  “He won’t.  I’ve had enough of your plans.”

Leif threw up his hands in surrender.  “Fine.  Drop everything else.  Hurry.”  We finished the task
.  Each man kept a single weapon, mostly swords.  I held onto my father’s saex.  Aoife was balanced on my shoulder.

We splashed downstream as fast as our lungs and legs would propel us.  I looked around to see who made it that far.  Tyrkr ran, drenched in blood, stone faced.  Randulfr, Loki, and Brandr had survived that long.  And there was Leif, of course, and Magnus.  Four other Greenlanders trailed behind.

The river went on a maniacally curving course.  We made terrible time if we expected to ever make it to our ships, but after running at least an English mile we gave up.  We fell to a halt.  Each man except for me crashed into the Add, exhausted.  I teetered on my feet, holding Aoife.  We caught our breath and slowly gathered together.  The others climbed to all fours.  I rested one hand on my knee and for the first time felt the soothing coolness of the water rolling past my shins.  We, survivors of the previous slaughter, locked eyes and knew that we were going to die.

One-by-one we stood upright with weapons at the ready to meet whatever would come down the river or whatever might come pounding over the bank.  We remained planted in the undulating waters
for a long while.

The shrill, wailing cry of a lapwing broke the silence.

“They aren’t coming?” asked Brandr.

None of us believed it so we waited.

We again looked at one another.  Without uttering a word we turned and slowly walked down the river toward our fleet.

. . .

“Do you smell that?” asked Leif.

“What?” I asked.

“Smoke,” said Tyrkr.  He pointed high up through the treetops that extended up from the soggy banks of the Add.

“The fleet,” gasped Randulfr, plunging forward.

Leif grabbed him by the shoulder.  “If they’ve taken the main road and beaten us there, they’ll be watching the river.  We’ll be ambushed from the side.  We’ve no armor.”

“So we let the fleet burn?  How do we escape?” accused Brandr.

“And I said I was tired of listening to you,” said Randulfr.  He stuck a weak finger into Leif’s chest.

“No,” said Leif, answering Brandr, but ignoring Randulfr.
  “Back into the swamps.  It’s not far now.”  He climbed out of the water on the northern bank, expecting us to follow.

“I should command,” said Randulfr.

“You’re right, you should,” I said, following after Leif.  The Greenlanders and Tyrkr came along.

Loki gave Randulfr an encouraging slap on his shoulder.  “You should, but you don’t today.  Leif’s got a way with planning.  I sup
pose we ought to follow.”  There was no time for further grumbling.  The rest came – Randulfr, too.

Soon we crouched in the thicket downstream from our boats. 
Raven’s Cross
was ablaze.  It sat right in the middle of the River Add where it had run aground.  The men I’d left behind to free the ship were dead.  That is, except the newcomers who now lounged along the river next to the captives we meant to sell in Dyflin.  They were freed from their shackles.  Maredubb and a score of mounted warriors were just riding up.

“I’ve posted some men to intercept the bastards running down the river.  They might already be dead,” bragged King Maredubb.

The mast on Godfrey’s flagship crunched as it fell into the waters.  Maredubb took note.  “Ah, the upstart’s been paid back.  It feels so good.”  The Welsh king studied the rest of our armada that rested peacefully between us and him.  A cool wind from the north shook our thicket.  It also made the open portion of a hastily lowered sail snap on
Charging Boar
.  Maredubb pointed.  “Why does the rest of the fleet not burn?”

The lead newcomer appeared confused, but did not move.  His hands were securely fastened behind his head as he reclined.  “I knew you’d want to burn Godfrey’s ship, but why burn a fine fleet that you can put to use, or sell?”

Maredubb’s face flushed red.  He spoke through clenched teeth.  “Because a true king, one who is not a scoundrel like the Norsemen or Danes, isn’t a thief!  I’ll not be called Maredubb the Scavenger!  If I want an armada, I’ll build it myself.  Now burn the floating logs of shit!”

The lounging men slowly sat up.  It wasn’t fast enough for the king.

“Burn it now!  Move, or you’ll be strapped to their masts and it will be your pyre.”  If it was possible, the king’s face became redder.  He pointed to the would-be slaves.  “You, too!”

All of them scrambled. 
Someone found a few suitable torches from the nearby woods.  They walked them to
Raven’s Cross
to capture flames.  They had to use their hands to shield their faces from the heat.  The torches popped to life before their ends even touched the fire.

“Leif?” asked Randulfr.  “If I don’t hear a plan right now, I’m going to run out there and attack the goat turds.”

The odds were fairly even, but we had no shields and no mail.  Leif nodded.  “My plan is simple.  We edge toward this last ship in the line nearest us.  We hope that we can get it pushed off and get enough rowing power to get away downstream.”

“And abandon
Charging Boar
?” I asked stupidly.  One of Aoife’s arms touched mine.  Her body was already cool to the touch.

Leif rightly didn’t bother to answer.
  He crouched and quietly shuffled toward the nearest ship.  It was a tub-like knarr, not much different from
Charging Boar
, but it didn’t have a sail made by my loin’s desire, Freydis.  I’d miss that ship and all she represented.

“Not there,” barked Maredubb.  “Can you not feel the wind?  You’ll fight it all day and still the rest of the Viking fleet will sit there safely.  Start with the northernmost boats
and let the wind do the work.”  The men who carried the burning limbs allowed their shoulders to slump and trudged along the river’s edge.  They came directly to the ship we’d picked out.

Leif held up a hand, paused, and changed directions.  Like roped cow
s, we followed without objection.  He snaked back into the swamp only briefly.  Leif led us over fallen logs and under limbs until we looked through another set of thorns.  We were directly adjacent to
Charging Boar
.  Downriver the ship we’d just left already had flames lapping up the prow.  Its baggage burned brightly.  The wind was pushing sheets of flame toward the other ships.  In moments every single ship of Godfrey’s short-term fleet would be on fire.

“How will we get past that?” asked Randulfr
, pointing to the people with torches and the growing blaze.

“I don’t know.  We will or we won’t,” said Leif with maddening indifference.  “Move fast.  I’ll jump aboard and haul the sail.  You all push.”

“The wind is against us!” Brandr protested.

“If it stays that way, we die,” said Leif.  He burst from our hiding place, ending all chance for argument.  He was over the gunwale before anyone on the opposite bank even n
oticed.  The roar of the fires covered any noise he made.  Leif pulled on the fat rope with his hands and strong forearms, lifting the sail higher and higher.

We followed him, ramming our shoulders into the strakes and prow. 
My head was tucked between the ship and Aoife.  We grunted and worked.  The shallow-keeled vessel slipped back easily.  The men began scrambling up the strakes.  Randulfr reached down for Aoife.  He gently lifted her and set her among the baggage.  I stayed in the water and easily guided the ship to face the proper direction.

The movement at the side of his vision finally caught Maredubb’s attention.  He looked once, then twice.  The king screamed at his horsemen.  “Get them!”

His riders hadn’t yet seen us.  They hesitated a moment to see what the king was shouting about.  We would need every heartbeat they gave us.  We used them.  Brandr found a bow, strung it and began sending poorly aimed arrows toward shore.  The rest found oars.  Leif tied off the tall red and white striped sail.  Magnus took his place at the rudder.

“Leif, the damn sail is pushing us back,” shouted Magnus.  “
The wind is against us.  The oars and current are barely enough to move us forward.  Drop the cloth or you’ll get us killed.”

“We’re dead anyway,” answered Leif.

Brandr’s arrows took down two riders as they splashed into the river.  Leif sent spears in their direction.  Three horses went scrambling when he buried steel head into the necks.  I pulled myself up into the ship.  “Take an oar,” commanded Magnus.  “We need force.  If the soldiers don’t get us, the fire will.”  I stood looking at Magnus.  Something was tugging on my mind, trying to be remembered.  “Unless you can control the wind with your thoughts, grab some oak, idiot!”

The wind!  I plunged into the baggage, tossing men’s packs out of the way. 
One of Aoife’s hands fell onto my hudfat.  The girl was again saving us.  I unlaced the sinew cord of the sack, found my quarry, said a prayer, to whom I don’t recall, and tugged.

Tyrkr used an oar to strike a rider.  The rest of our oarsmen stayed put.  They pulled.  Every muscle on their naked backs bulged.  Slowly we moved downstream.  Then the smoke that was beginning to choke us cleared.  It ran away north
, ahead of us instead of into our faces.  The pennant snapped.  Our sail billowed – in the right direction.  The winds had shifted.  We skipped forward, propelled by the triple power of men, current, and wind.

The riders were left in our wake.  They tried to pursue in the stream’s center, but their horses would soon be swimming instead of running.  They halted, sending a few impotent spears after us.  We squeaked through the narrow channel created by our burning fleet.  I found a bucket and leaned over the gunwale.  I used the river water to quickly put out any fires that started from the flying ash.

When we sailed out of the mouth of the River Add I looked to port.  There on the far bank was Maredubb.  He alone had raced his horse to the shoreline.  The king sat there watching us go.  He could do nothing else.

We had survived.  Some of us survived, I mean.

Maredubb was victorious.  Godfrey and his hopes for kingdom were dashed.

CHAPTER
13

The river had become Loch Crinan.  The wind I’d unleashed from the knotted ropes given me by the witches on Man stayed with us for the remainder of the day.  We were thankful for the wind and stowed every oar.  Except for Magnus at the helm, we fell on top of the baggage and stared at the sky.

I say that I changed the course of the wind, because in the midst of our flight, when the riders were upon us and the breeze blew us backward, I laid my hands on those ropes
given to me by the crazed sisters.  I pulled.  To this day I still wonder about that moment.  Was it my fate all along that the wind would change in that instant?  Perhaps the norns would think it funny and they wove my thread in such a way.  Was it the ropes?  I don’t know.  Or, was it Providence?  I’d prayed to the Christian God once that day.  Maybe that is how he answered.

Very quickly the loch turned into a long, narrow finger of the Irish Sea.  Magnus leaned on the rudder and turned us on a southwest tack.
  Loki didn’t like that direction.  “We should return to Lismore and warn the men we left behind.  Maredubb or the Dal Riatans could sack them before they finish the palisade Godfrey wanted built.”

Randulfr sat up on a sea chest.  He was picking at an old, stray piece of leather he’d found.  Randulfr slapped it against his hand and threw it into the sea.  “Or
, the traitors among the men we left on Lismore have already slaughtered our side.”  Randulfr swallowed his spittle.  It appeared as if it was a real chore.  And it was an unpleasant task, for he was in the process of swallowing much more.  His pride went down in that gulp.  He’d served a king who went from victorious to ruin on a crisp morning.  Now he was agreeing to serve a kid.  “What do you think, Leif?”

Leif rolled off the hudfat on which he’d been resting.  “Randulfr is more than right.  Our men may already be dead.  If they are not, what will an exhausted band of rubble be able to do if Maredubb lands?”

“We can warn them!” protested Loki.  We could have I suppose.  No one really wanted to, however.

“Well, where do we go?” I asked.  “Man will be crawling with Maredubb’s soldiers in a week or two
or now!  By Hel, Killian’s replacement priest may run the island already.  We can’t return to Greenland, we haven’t even been gone a year.”

“We
have to abandon the tiny hoards of treasure we all probably buried on Man.  We must find a king to follow, a new ring-giver,” answered Leif.  He studied Randulfr, who nodded in agreement.

“Rogaland?” I asked.  “Should we return to the land of our fathers and grandfathers?”

“No,” answered Leif.  “None of us will be satisfied with serving some jarl who is vassal to a king’s vassal.  As I said, we need a real king.”

“To where?  To whom?”
Loki asked.  “And what about our brothers on Lismore?”

Randulfr and Leif exchanged knowing glances.  Randulfr, in those momen
ts, had accepted Leif’s command. He waved for his captain to answer.

“
I’d say we know only one king who is wily and has proven he is capable through a long reign.  We go to Dyflin and offer our services to King Kvaran and his sons.”

“Sitric Silkbeard and Iron Knee,” I whispered.  I had heard Godfrey and Kvaran mention those names
in the church on Iona.  They were the best names I could think of for warriors.  I hoped they lived up to the monikers.

“And what will make
Kvaran want to send help to the outpost on Lismore?” asked Loki.

Leif grinned, “I don’t know.  Maybe we tell him that is where his ten men are held captive.”
  Leif rattled around in his bags.  He pulled out those cylindrical pieces of iron he’d stolen from Watchet’s mint.  “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll sell him these coin dies.  With them the Viking King Kvaran of Dyflin will soon be minting his own English pennies with Aethelred’s smirking face looking back at him.”

Like Aethelred’s image, we smiled
.  It felt wrong to grin after such a grim day.  We’d all lost men with whom we’d drunk ale.  Dead were men with whom we’d bled.  Gone was a priest, small in stature, large in personality.  Evaporated was the erstwhile sea king, Godfrey.  He’d died the way he would have wanted, leading his men in a great battle.  It was even as though the lovely and sharp Gudruna never was.  They were carrion.

And vanished was the lively Irish thrall, Aoife.  We moved toward the setting sun and I thought of her and all she’d done in order to find herself a bit of freedom and adventure.  The girl had belittled me.  She’d poked and prodded.  She talked back to a king.
  I stirred.

The rest of the survivors watched silently as I tore a long section of extra sail. I set Aoife’s body crossways on the cloth.  Among the baggage of dead men I found heavy war axes and swords.  None of my compatriots complained when I set the valuable items onto the girl and wrapped the fabric tightly around her, tying it so that the weights would stay secure.
  Leif lowered the sail so that we slowed.

Randulfr helped me pick Aoife’s cloaked body up.  I know that Christians say things when a loved one dies.  They recite words from the One God, from the Word.  I didn’t know any such details then.  I bent and kissed the cloth that covered her nose.  I straightened and nodded to Randulfr.  The two of us leaned over so that we set her on the top of the sea.  When we let her go, Aoife’s white grave wrappings dropped into the depths.  I could see her for only a single heartbeat until the darkness swallowed her whole.

The sound of rope rubbing on timber meant that Leif was already pulling up the sail.  The others wanted to be far away from Dunadd.  I leaned on the gunwale and stared at the murky sea.  It began slipping past my view faster and faster as the sail gathered the strength of the wind.  The rest of the men went about their business in respectful silence.

My time of sadness had passed.  I no longer mourned the girl, not because I hadn’t grown to love her.  No.  I stopped whimpering because I did love the little imp.  With my chin
resting on my forearm, I smiled when I thought of Aoife, for I knew that of all the women I’ve ever met, she, along with the daughter that I have yet to tell you about, would meet me in Valhalla.

THE END

(
Dear Reader, See Historical Remarks section to help separate fact from fiction.)