Viking Sword Read online

  The ship was a spectacular specimen at just over twenty eels long. In the center she ballooned out to nearly two eels and into that space, if he could avoid the mast and the end of the oars, Leofwine was being beckoned to sleep on a slightly raised platform. He'd brought a good number of furs with him to make his journey as comfortable as possible but had foolishly left them on his own ship. He looked around frantically hoping to catch Wulfstan's eye and get him to bring them over, but the light of the day was almost gone, and all he could see was a mass of gently bobbing lanterns floating eerily over the sea. He'd have to hope that Olaf had some to spare.

  He reached Olaf, who clasped his arm in greeting, even though they’d been in sight of each other all day and pointed to a comfortable looking mass of furs. They filled a huge space on the raised area of the center of the ship. Leofwine sank gratefully onto them, fingering the soft coat of the now dead wolf. Olaf noticed,

  "I’d like to say I caught him myself, but that would be lying. I simply found the trader who had the misfortune to meet me one day on his way to market. I didn't take everything, but this was too good to miss. I’ll gift it on to you when you leave to return home."

  Leofwine smiled in response, about to refuse the gift, before realizing that Olaf might be offended if he refused. Instead, he responded,

  "My Lord, you’re most kind. I can already envisage him on my marriage bed.”

  Olaf smirked in response,

  "I pray that he’s not more attractive than your wife?” his voice tinged with amusement.

  "No, my Lord. I think my wife is most beguiling and even softer than this beautiful beast."

  Olaf's laugh was light and carefree.

  "I wish I shared your good fortune. Now sleep, my friend. You dream of your wife and perhaps, I will too."

  Leofwine shared in the congenial humour. It was no secret that Olaf's wife was not a beautiful woman, even he had picked up on the comments Olaf's men threw his way. She had, however, brought him wealth, which he'd desperately needed, or at least that was the rumour circulating.

  Leofwine made himself comfortable lying down, remembering to add his sealskin cloak to the top of the furs. In his position at the center of the ship, he was likely to be the first to feel the cold hands of any stray waves slapping over the side.

  The shipmen around him stilled as they all drifted off to sleep. Soon there was no noise apart from the soft snores of the exhausted men, spent from their day of continuous rowing. He'd not been anywhere near as active, and so he lay awake staring up at the shining stars above his head and listening to the gentle lap of the waves against the sides of the ship. The clouds of daylight had dispersed and the night sky sparkled clearly above him.

  In the middle of nowhere, completely at nature's mercy, the tales of mythical beasts and monsters seemed that little bit more real. He felt himself muttering a prayer under his breath to his Christian God and the rhythmic, near-chanting eventually lulled him into an uneasy sleep. His dreams were filled with huge sea monsters he couldn’t hope to battle, who tossed him into the freezing sea from his deep sleep, only too aware that he’d die there, so far from land. Their game was a mere sport, and that was even more terrifying. If he'd been hunted for food, he could have understood their needs.

  He woke suddenly, finally able to break free from his terrifying nightmares. He was drenched in sweat and despite his many layers of fur, he was shivering uncontrollably. Sunrise hadn’t yet come, but there was a faint lessening on the black horizon that meant it wouldn’t be long until the sun began its slow ascent into the sky.

  The sounds from the ship were still those of gently lapping waves and soft snores from the shipmen. Leofwine concentrated on quieting his breathing and banishing the images from the dreams that had haunted his sleep. His head hurt and to warm himself; he pulled the furs higher around his shoulders. He'd not had nightmares since he was a small boy, apart from when his father had died. Then he'd experienced vivid dreams of his father calling for his assistance that he'd not been able to give. He'd often woken from the dreams disorientated and crying. They'd lasted for a good few months, only finally banished when he‘d taken to his bed a buxom local girl who'd made him forget almost everything.

  With his breathing quieted he gave up all pretext of sleep and rose to a sitting position, making sure the furs were pulled tight against his body. He rested his back against the mast base, careful not to disturb any of the sleepers. Olaf was snoring loudly, and Leofwine would have liked nothing more than to nudge him into quiet. He didn't. He decided it was better to tolerate the snoring than wake Olaf. He didn't want Olaf to realize how unnerved he was by the sea crossing.

  In the near distance, he could faintly make out the shape of the other longships that made up Olaf's fleet. The ships made dark smudges on the horizon with specks of light at either end. He smiled with relief when he caught sight of his own ship. She'd stayed with the rest of the fleet all night, against their worst fears. He sincerely hoped that Wulfstan was starting to feel a little more at ease for he was starting to grow more unnerved with every oar stroke away from England.

  He used the silent time to consider the lives the men on the ship led more fully. They were seeking things he'd not have risked his life for. Out here, on the motionless ocean, the feeling of total hopelessness and isolation were bad enough. What would it be like if a storm blew up? How would it feel to know that you'd put your life in the hands of the faithless sea? He was starting to admire the men's resolve where before he'd only felt contempt. Raiding was no easy way to make a fortune. He found himself wondering what conditions must be like at home for these men to force so many of them to leave home and take to the ships? He hoped now that his trip with Olaf would teach him more about the mindset of his enemies. Perhaps he'd learn things that would help his king and fellow country- men.

  He finally stopped shivering and suddenly needed to relieve his bladder. Rising somewhat unsteadily to his feet, he walked the few steps to the side of the ship and gratefully emptied his bladder into the bleak steel sea. He winced at the loud noise his water made as it hit the infinite expanse. However, none of the shipmen stirred and so his business finished, he returned to his place near the mast and his disquiet thoughts.

  His dreams last night had stirred up all the old memories of his father and now in the half-light of early morning, and the profound silence, not even broken by a cock crow as would have happened at home, he found himself assaulted by images of the time he'd spent with his father. As a young boy learning to parry with his first wooden sword, to his time, when as an acknowledged man, he'd taken his father on as an equal. He couldn’t beat him; his father was too good a tactician for that; he had to rely more on his brute strength. His father had assured him that his tactical skill would develop and grow with age. He had been right; pity he'd not been around to see it happen.

  He'd been no young boy when his father had gone to fight against the raiders in 991; he'd confidently taken control of his father's land while he'd been away. Only his father's failure to return had disturbed his state of mind. He'd grieved for months and in that time had been entirely reliant on Wulfstan to manage the land and people who supported his place in society. His father wouldn’t have approved, but then his own father's father had lived to a grand old age, well into his fifties, and able to see his grandson grow to maturity, not just his son. His father wouldn’t have understood the intense grief his son had experienced although he'd probably have been gratified by the knowledge that his only son had been so reliant on him as both father and friend. Leofwine had never known his mother as she'd died birthing him. His father had been his only family; his father and of course, Wulfstan. He'd had a peaceful upbringing but had not been shielded from the realities of the Court and the king. From his earliest days as a man, he'd attended the Witan with his father, and had watched and tried to learn the ways of the men and women who advised the king.

  He became aware of movement around him at the same time as the
snoring ceased. The entire crew of shipmen woke at the same time. They stood quickly and saw to their morning ablutions before removing their shields, extinguishing the two lamps and passing around some cold smoked pork for breakfast and drinking from a shared horn. With little conversation, they were soon again bent to the task of rowing having un-stoppered the oar holes and reinserted the oars. Before the night gloom had fully cleared the entire fleet had begun the journey to the islands of their destination.

  Olaf had assured him it would only take two days to reach their destination, and Leofwine hoped that meant they'd reach it today. He didn’t relish the idea of another night on board a silent ship with nothing to distract him from his nightmares. However, the lack of wind had slowed them considerably, and he feared that Olaf's prediction of a two-day journey would prove to be wrong. He doubted that the men could power the ships as quickly as nature and decided he should resolve himself to a good few more days at sea.

  The day, like that which preceded it, proved to be dull and gloomy, and about midday, or so he thought as it was difficult to tell without a clear view of the sun, he heard a shout from behind and turned to see that Wulfstan had ordered his ship to breach the gap between them. It made conversation possible although far from private. Wulfstan looked more relaxed at the front of the ship and Leofwine was pleased to note that the mild conditions were apparently increasing his confidence at sea. He wished he felt the same.

  Wulfstan had nothing of import to tell him, so they shouted inconsequentialities at each other and after only a short time, Wulfstan let his ship pull back into its original position, in the middle of the fleet, behind Olaf's own ship, which led the others.

  The day was long and slow and although the shipmen were in good spirits and Axe allowed him to man the oar for some time, as night again fell, the land was nowhere in sight and Leofwine's uneasiness at another night on board took hold of him. He had to dismiss it as irrational as he again joined Olaf in the middle of the ship to sleep but couldn't help noticing that the men's voices were unnaturally loud, and here and there, some had drunk slightly too much mead, and arguments had broken out at the front and rear of the ship. Olaf contained his men and returned to his place by Leofwine muttering about bloody idiots and then, unlike the night before, set a watch. Leofwine couldn't help thinking it was more to keep an eye on the shipmen than a fear that they’d encounter another fleet at night. He doubted that any other fleet would have left their safe land harbour when the sea was so becalmed.

  Again, he struggled to sleep, even as comfortable as he was, and even having spent some of the day rowing. His mind wouldn't shut down, and though his eyes stayed closed, he fought his busy mind as it went from childhood memories to concerns about the coming winter and then back to the erotic thought of his last night spent with his wife. They'd only been married for a week before he'd left a month ago. He could vividly remember the image of her naked body, all long legs, flat stomach and perfectly proportioned breasts, and he found himself wishing over and over again that he was with her, and not trapped here, on a ship journey that seemed to be going nowhere.

  At some point in the long dreary night, and it had to be late because he'd heard the watchmen change more than once, he nodded off, lulled finally by the gently lapping waves and thoughts of how he’d celebrate his return with his wife. His dreams were quieter. His awakening was not. In his sub-consciousness, he'd been aware for some time of a screeching wind and violent rocking of the ship, but it was the slap of frozen, cold seawater that finally woke him, abruptly. His head was foggy from lack of sleep, and it took him precious moments to realize what was happening. The sky was still dark and menacing, but clouds were scudding quickly across the moon that was just beginning to drop lower in the sky. The wind had returned with a vengeance.

  Up and down the ship all the men were waking as Leofwine wiped the cold salt water from his face with the back of his hand, before pulling his furs tighter. The temperature had dropped considerably as he'd slept and his face felt raw from the wind it was exposed to.

  His head finally clear and his eyes alert, he glanced to where Olaf was hastily assisting his men to unfurl the sail. He looked at Leofwine and winked,

  "Now, we'll show you the exact speed of my beauty. We've signaled the fleet, and they're to follow our example. Do you think your men will be able to cope with a true wind from Hel?" he ended with a smug tone to his voice and Leofwine, while not entirely sure that his shipmen would be able to, was stung into replying,

  "Of course they will, my Lord. They’re the king’s finest shipmen.”

  Olaf returned to his task, chuckling to himself and Leofwine decided, in deference to maintaining good relations, to ignore the implied disbelief.

  He scanned the horizon, hopefully, looking for his ship, and was gratified to note, as the sun's first rays heralded the advent of the day, she was in place behind the ship he was on, and that her sail was at the same stage of raising as Olaf's own. His men would not let him down. They'd trained for this, and they were prepared.

  He caught sight of Wulfstan's grey head, bent to his tasks, and just stood and watched him until Wulfstan himself stood and waved in salute. By now Olaf and his men had the sail up, and the wind immediately caught her and Leofwine lost his balance and stumbled back against one of the shipmen. He offered him a steadying hand, and no ridicule, which Leofwine was grateful for. He quickly made his way to the prow of the ship and settled in for what he hoped would be his last day at sea before reaching dry land. The oars were all neatly stacked in the middle of the ship from the night before, so space was a little tight to be overly comfortable.

  Pleased to be having a day of rest, the men passed around a horn of mead and then in small groups they took to playing games with wooden pieces and a board, polishing their swords and helmets, or simply prowling through their own war chests to see what treasures they had not yet fully admired.

  Further down the ship he could see one brown head bent forward as if in prayer to the Christian God, and finally curiosity won and he leant forward to tap Axe on the shoulder,

  "What is that man doing?” and he pointed down the ship.

  Axe followed his finger and shrugged his giant shoulders in response.

  "It’s just Finn. He's Olaf's scribe, although Gods know why he needs one. He's a useless fighter and cannot row even when we tell him the Valkyrie are chasing us. Still, Olaf keeps him close and sees to his constant demands for parchment and ink."

  Axe returned immediately to polishing his mighty war hammer, and Leofwine was left to ponder the strange idea. He knew his own king kept scribes and churchmen to keep written records of grants and charters. He didn’t think that a mere raider would have need of one. What did he need to write down? Leofwine certainly didn't believe that he kept written records of the people he killed and stole from. He would have liked to have gone and spoken to Finn; to see what he was writing now, but the violent motion of the ship prevented him and kept him firmly in the same place all day, only moving once when absolute necessity took him to the side of the ship to relieve his pressing bladder. He made it back to his place in one piece and then closed his eyes, head rested on the edge of the ship. The forceful sideways motion of the ship was less here, and he found himself able to sleep. He didn’t dream, exhaustion from his two broken night’s sleep overwhelming him completely.

  He woke later to the sound of "Land ahead" and a profound feeling of relief. He wouldn’t have to spend tonight on the wide-open sea, with no landmarks as far as the eye could see. He struggled to his feet and watched with a mixture of intrigue and joy as the strange land came into sight. A collection of islands slowly formed in front of him; the land coming into focus; the jagged coastline taking shape, while the smudges of smaller islands, further away, simply became a little clearer as dusk slowly began to spread across the sky in a mixture of deep purples and crimsons. The island they were heading towards was backlit by the colours and appeared black in contrast, a total unknown qu
ality but welcome for all that.

  As they came within sight of the ragged cliffs, Olaf ordered the fleet to turn against the tide, to the groans of the men, who took the sail down and began heaving on their heavy oars already in place. The men had been prepared for Olaf’s commands, no matter their personal feelings.

  On the land, Leofwine could see smoke rising into the darkening sky from some buildings and the occasional twinkle of a lit lamp. He didn’t see anyone coming to meet them and wondered whether the inhabitants of the tiny isle were so used to the unexpected arrival of raiders that they didn’t bother, or whether they were simply expected.

  The ship ran aground on a gently sloping beach with a thud that shuddered the entire length of the ship and moved from Leofwine's feet to the top of his head. He choked back a cry of euphoria. All around him, the other ships were doing the same, and he spied Wulfstan only a few ships over to his left. Wulfstan was at the front of his ship, the first to leap onto the greying sand. He shot Leofwine a grimace.

  Up and down the ship the men were stowing the oars and closing the oar holes. Leofwine squeezed past all the busy activity and with exhilaration jumped from the bow of the ship to be met by the softest sand he'd ever encountered. In the twilight, it appeared drab and dreary, but he imagined that with the sunrise it would shine as golden as the sun itself. He hoped they'd still be here to see it. He didn’t relish the idea of an early start in the morning; it would be nice to stop swaying in time to the sea, even if only for a moment.

  Around him, the men were disembarking with their possessions for the night, and Olaf turned to him.

  "Come, we’ll seek shelter for the night. The Jarl here, Sigurd, is an acquaintance of mine. He keeps a merry hall”.

  "I’ll just speak with Wulfstan and the men."

  "Of course. I must see to my own men before I see to myself.”