The Vengeance Trail (Dragonheart), page 1
Contents
The Vengeance Trail
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
The End
Norse Calendar
Glossary
Historical Note
Other books by Griff Hosker
The Vengeance Trail
Dragonheart’s Heir
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd 2020
Copyright ©Griff Hosker 2020
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
Cover by Design for Writers
Prologue
I am Sámr Ship Killer and I am the heir of Dragonheart. I have led the clan since we laid his body to rest in the cave of Myrddyn under the watchful eye of Ylva, his granddaughter. I had thought that I had been a good leader who led the Clan of the Wolf well. The three sisters who weave and plot proved to me that I was wrong. Wyrd. It had been Harald Finehair, the Norwegian King, who sent warriors to take my land. He did not fight fairly; that was not his way and I did not have The Dragonheart’s clever mind; perhaps his faith in me had been misplaced. My father and uncle were killed, and I was captured in the war which made the Clan of the Wolf the prisoner of King Harald of Norway. Had it not been for Ylva and her powers then the Clan of the Wolf would have been completely destroyed. We were hurt when his men took over Whale Island, Cyninges-tūn, Hawk’s Roost and Windar’s Mere. Many great warriors died. My best friend, Baldr, was slain along with his family and I was made a prisoner, in a cage, in my own home! That might have been endured but Aethelflaed, my wife, along with my children, Ragnar Sámrsson and Ylva Sámrsdotter, were taken as hostages or as playthings. While I was a prisoner I did not know. I just hung suspended each day in my cage and endured the taunts, insults and injuries inflicted upon me by the Danish Skull Takers who were my guards and tormentors. That time was the lowest in my life and I lost all hope. I think that it was then that The Dragonheart, now in Valhalla, would have wondered at his decision to make me his heir. Better a swineherd than the great-grandson who had lost all.
As I hung in the cage I believed that the King of Norway took them to his rocky home in Norway but I did not know. I still do not know what would have happened to me and my family had not Ylva summoned Fótr the Wolf from the land beyond the western seas. Even now I cannot believe that any man, let alone a clan, sailed that mighty ocean but Fótr did it, not once but twice. When he came and landed on the western coast of the Land of the Wolf, it was like the rolling of a single rock down the slopes of Úlfarrberg and the impossible happened. We destroyed the hold Finehair had on the Land of the Wolf. That was almost a year since. It has taken us since then to scour the land of every one of Finehair’s men. My people have spent the time rebuilding our lives and our defences so that we can make our enemies fear the Clan of the Wolf once more. The Danes from the land of the east are ever eager to take our land. Now that we do not have the sword which was touched by the gods then they believe we are weak. They took Eoforwic from the Northumbrians and, it is said, were even trying to take the land of the West Saxons and their King Aethelred was hard-pressed. Perhaps that was why they had, in the last fighting season, lessened their attacks.
Now that I am older I see that the year I spent in scouring my land of enemies was a year wasted. At the time I thought I was doing the right thing. I was making my land strong but I was not. I was delaying in seeking my family for I feared what I might find. When a man marries and has children then they are his responsibility and I had failed in mine. As much as I appeared to be busy, leading my men to seek rumours of Norwegians and Danes still hiding in my land, I knew that I was putting off the inevitable. One day I would have to find my family. If I did not, then I would never enjoy a night of sleep again. Each night, in my empty hall at Hawk’s Roost, I tossed and turned. Only mead and ale helped me to sleep and that was a fitful sleep. I was not strong enough and, once again, it took the threads of the three sisters, the Norns, to either hang me or find me salvation!
All of that meant that a year after my release I could begin to think about rescuing my family. I could take a crew and sail to Norway and beard King Harald Finehair. I would take the first steps on the vengeance trail, but it would take others to move me. King Harald had taken the heart from Sámr Ship Killer.
Chapter 1
Fótr the Wolf lived close to the coast on the far side of the high pass and the old Roman fort. When he had first come to our land he and most of his people had lived at Úlfarrston but it had not been for them. There were too many they did not know and they had joined the two Hibernians, Aed and Padraig on the west coast of the Land of the Wolf. There were few people there for the Hibernians raided the coast for slaves. He had asked for a home which looked west for his brother still lived in the land of the Skraeling. I had made him lord of that land and his people had become part of the Clan of the Wolf. When that happened those of his people who lived by the Water rejoined him. It was wyrd and we were all happy. I wondered at the time why he had only given the place a month but I had other things on my mind. Men make plans and look for perfection. As much as I wished to rescue my family I saw too many obstacles in my way.
I looked around the warriors of my land and saw that all of those I would have chosen to follow me to Norway were either dead or even older than I was. The last few years had seen a few grey hairs in my beard and my hair. My great grandfather’s old Greek servant, Atticus, would have said that was normal in a man of my years but I still saw myself as the young warrior sailing with The Dragonheart. Many of their sons and even grandsons had fought in the war to free our land, but none had gone raiding. The three warriors with experience of sailing and fighting at sea were the three who had come from the New World: Fótr, Ebbe and the Skraeling, Bear Tooth. There were others in their clan, like Æimundr Loud Voice, who were too old now and it would not be fair to take them with me. The others who had come, like Harald of Dyroy and Danr, would not wish to uproot themselves. I knew that I was waiting for a sign or perhaps a miracle, or it may have been that I made an excuse, if I did not sail to Norway then I could not fail, again! There was little point in sailing to rescue my family if it was doomed to failure from the beginning. So it was that I found reasons to stay in the Land of the Wolf. Had I been serious about going to rescue them then I might have begun work on a drekar to take us there. I told myself that I still planned to go but I was telling that most hateful of lies, to my heart and my head!
That all changed when Erik Black Toe returned to Whale Island. It was many years since Whale Island had ruled the seas between Mercia and Hibernia: my great uncle and my father along with Pasgen were long dead as was Pasgen’s brother Raibeart. Now there was not even a drekar there. A few knarr and threttanessa from Dyflin used its facilities and its strength lay in the defences built by my father and Raibeart. There would have been a time when a rider would have galloped up the road by The Water to bring us the news of his arrival. Now Erik, who had followed The Dragonheart and carried his shield, walked the fourteen miles to Cyninges-tūn and reached there just after dark. A boat came across The Water to fetch me.
They just said that a weary warrior called Erik had staggered in to the stad and had said that there was news of my family. That was enough for me, but I think I knew who the Erik they spoke of was. He had been Erik Shield Bearer but when he and Haaken One Eye had been to Wyddfa he had been injured and it was Ylva who had renamed him. He was now Erik Black Toe and that was also strange for he lived, for a while, with Erik Short Toe, the Captain of Dragonheart’s drekar! At the end, he had not only protected my great grandfather, The Dragonheart, but he had also stood to guard Ylva and I owed him much. I had not seen him since my capture, and I had thought him dead. I knew that this was the work of the Norns. They had spun and he had returned but whence from? I remembered that it was he who had composed the last saga of Dragonheart. Haaken One Eye had passed the mantle of the singer to him. He had been little more than a youth then and now he would be a man grown and more.
Haaken Ráðgeirsson was the head man of Cyninges-tūn. Bjorn Asbjornson had been the one who led the men to help rescue me, but he had lost family and now ruled Windar’s Mere for me. Haaken Ráðgeirsson lived in the hall that had been The Dragonheart’s. His father, Ráðgeir, had been a mighty warrior who had fallen in the war of King Finehair. If the King of the Norwegians had been an honourable man and fought a battle to see who ruled the Land of the Wolf then we would have won for our army was made up of heroes but instead, he used mercenaries and allies to dra
Haaken had a large family and lusty sons. I was greeted by Ráðgeir Haakensson. He was the image of his father. “Lord, the man who came to us is Erik Black Toe. My mother recognised him. He is weary and has hurts. We have put him in the chamber used by Germund. Would you like to speak to him?”
I nodded for my mind was too full of questions for me to contemplate conversation.
Erik had been undressed and put to bed. Gertha, Ráðgeir Haakensson’s mother, was feeding him stew. Erik saw me and tried to rise. Gertha was the matriarch not only of the family but also of Cyninges-tūn, “Lie down, Erik! First, you eat!” She continued to feed him but spoke to me, “I know not what the people of Whale Island and Úlfarrston were thinking, Lord Sámr! This is a hero of the battle with the Danes and yet they let him walk, not ride mind, but walk, all the way here and he is starved enough as it is! They did not feed him but, from what he said, just showed him the gate and then slammed it behind him! Things have changed in the Land of the Wolf! If The Dragonheart…” She realised that she was about to criticise me, and she shook her head, “I am sorry, lord, that was wrong of me!”
“No, Gertha, you are right, and I have let down the people. It is a year since I was freed, and I have not even begun to do all that I intended.”
Anya, the wife of Ráðgeir Haakensson, brought me a horn of ale, “Do not think too badly of her, lord, her brothers were slain by the Danes.”
I sat by the bed and looked at Erik. He was barely recognisable. There was a long scar down one cheek and he looked like a skeleton with little flesh upon him. His skin was sallow and almost grey. This was not the lively youth who had guarded my great grandfather’s back. He finished the stew and Gertha gave him a horn of ale. He drank it and Gertha stood, “Do not question him too long, my lord, for he needs rest. One night cannot make much difference, can it?”
I nodded, “And if it was your family you sought?”
Her eyes met mine, “If it had been my family lord, I would have left a year ago and not rested until they were returned!”
That hurt but I took the criticism for it was right. I had not known where to begin looking and I feared failure.
I waited until we were alone and said, “Erik, you were ever a loyal warrior and I am sorry that after the death of Dragonheart I did not accord you the honour which you were due.”
He smiled and I saw that he had lost teeth, “Lord, I expected nothing. I was Dragonheart’s shield-bearer and you had much to do.”
“Then tell me your story but when you are tired then stop for Gertha is right. I should not make you suffer for my tardiness.”
“I fought alongside the men of this stad when the Norse came, and I was taken prisoner. Because I was young, I was not killed but taken as a thrall by a Norwegian, Egil Seal Breeks, back to his home in Norway. He was not a kind lord and I was beaten. It was on the voyage to Norway that I heard your family had been taken and I confess that I assumed that you were dead. The hersir’s home was at Hringariki, north of Kaupang, where King Harald sometimes has a court. I had a yoke around my neck, and I tended his pigs.” He drank deeply from the horn of ale and shook his head, “You berate yourself, lord. as do I. I did nothing for quite a while. I fed the pigs and I endured the beatings for I thought I was being punished for failing. I felt sorry for myself and, I believe, I might be there still, but I had a dream.” He drank some more and then said, after shaking his head, “Not a dream, a vision. I slept close to the sty and one night, Lady Ylva came to me. She told me I had to find Lady Aethelflaed and your family. She told me that they would be close and that the spirits of Old Ragnar and his family would aid me. It shocked me into action. Perhaps they thought they had broken me for they removed the yoke. It was not kindness, it just allowed me to be worked even harder. I stole a knife; it was not hard for they thought I was not a warrior. They called me a girl and a lover of boys. Now, I can see why. I waited until I had managed to steal enough food to keep me alive for a while and I escaped. I headed for Kaupang. I knew where it was as we had landed there, and I assumed that would be where they kept your family. I soon discovered that they were not there, and it was not a place for me for Egil Seal Breeks sent men to find me and I took a knarr which plied the waters of Norway.” He sighed.
“If you are tired then this can wait.”
He gave me a wan smile, “Lord, you know not the meaning of tired until you have been a thrall.” He took another drink of the ale which had been brought. “Each place we landed I listened for a word which might tell me that your family was close. There was little plan to my search for we went wherever there was cargo to be delivered and some places we did not visit. It was almost half a year since I had managed to escape, and the nights were so long that the captain spoke of paying us off until the spring when we visited the coast of Nordr-Agadir and Rogaland. We passed the entrance to a narrow fjord and landed at Flekkefjord. The narrow fjord is important, lord, but I did not know so at the time. We landed our cargo and the captain paid us off. The others in the crew seemed to have been expecting this for there was a widow of a warrior who was an alewife and the captain spent the winter with her. The other three crew took ship south, but I heard a rumour of a family of three who were kept captive at a place called Moi. As the crow flies it was just fifteen miles north of Flekkefjord, but it was up the narrow fjord we had passed. It seemed to me that I should investigate. The odds were that it was not your family for there was nothing spoken to suggest that they were anything other than folk taken from the lands to the west of Norway. I told the captain that I would seek work and after buying myself food, a fur and a sword with the money I had earned I set off north. The fifteen miles took me almost three days for there was snow and I was still not healed from my beatings. The journey took longer for there was a huge expanse of water the size of The Water. I might have risked the frozen ice-covered short cut, but I did not. I had not become brave then. When I reached Moi, I did not expose myself but watched the stronghold for that is what it was. Above the town at the head of the fjord, it had a strong gatehouse, wooden towers and a fighting platform. While the town lay close to the water the lord lived behind wooden walls with a pair of sentries at the gate.” He smiled, “Your great grandfather taught me well, Lord Sámr. I did not simply walk up to the walls and ask if there was a family of captives, I spent a week walking through the snow until I had circumnavigated the stronghold. The sisters were spinning for I found a farm with an old couple. Their son had gone a-Viking and not returned. The old man was ill and the woman could not run the farm herself. They happily employed me as a farmhand for the winter. Geirahǫd was younger than her husband and laughed a lot. Dagstyggr had been a mighty warrior once but was clearly not a farmer. I think that if I had not arrived then the animals that they kept might have died. Geirahǫd was another who was not cut out for farming. It was they gave me most of the information which led me to find your family.”
I could not help myself, “There were there, at Moi?”
He smiled, “Haaken One Eye told me that I was the new teller of tales, lord, let me tell the tale.” I nodded for he was right and deserved to be heard. “Uddulfr the Sly is the lord of Moi. He had been the one who had cheated Dagstyggr out of his better lands leaving him with the uplands only and they did not like him. They said that he had been a lieutenant of King Harald and served him in his wars. He had been given Moi and a drekar as a reward and given the honour of keeping a family in his stronghold. I had heard of other families of captives taken by King Harald and his men. Geirahǫd liked to gossip with the other women at the market. It was the wives of raiders who told her that many of those close to King Harald now had numbers of slaves taken in the west, Viking slaves. She told me that the last time she had been to the market in Moi, she had heard a rumour that the woman kept captive was a Saxon princess!”
