To Save a Kingdom Read online

  Table of Contents

  List of Characters in To Save a Kingdom

  PART ONE

  September 940

  PART TWO

  October 940

  PART THREE

  November 940

  April 941

  September 941

  PART FOUR

  October 942

  PART FIVE

  March 943

  PART SIX

  June 943

  PART SEVEN

  August 943

  Spring 944

  Spring 945

  PART EIGHT

  Some Terminology Explained | Religion and Superstition

  Law and Society

  Places

  HISTORICAL NOTE ON CUMBRIA IN VIKING TIMES

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  List of Characters in To Save a Kingdom

  Aisgerd Rolfsdaughter, Ragnar’s mother, Jarl Sweyn Hjaltebrand’s widow

  Aluinn, servant woman. Mother of Bjarne

  Anlaf Guthfrithson, King of Dublin, King of Jorvik 939-41

  Anlaf Sithricson, known as Cuaran, King of Dublin, King of Jorvik 941-44

  Anlaf Yngvarson, Sigrid’s sworn man, Hrodney’s son, Thorfinn’s stepson, married to Ragnar’s sister Gyda

  Ansgar, monk and scribe to Archbishop Wulfstan

  Bard Beornson a free man who served Sigrid’s father at Becklund. Brita, his wife.

  Beorn the Lame, old trusted servant at Buttermere

  Bjarne, Olvir’s friend at Buttermere

  Cerdic the Briton thrall at Buttermere

  Cinedred, wife of Lawman Mord Lambason of Keskadale

  Dunmail ab Owain, King of Cumbria (Strathclyde)

  Ebbe the Angle, servant at Buttermere

  Edmund, King of Wessex and Overlord of Mercia, claims to be King of England

  Erlend the Dane notorious chieftain and mercenary

  Grim Mordson, Lawman Mord Lambason’s eldest son

  Gyda Sweinsdaughter, Ragnar’s sister, married to Anlaf Yngvarson of Rannerdale

  Hakon the Good, King of Norway, Sigrid’s uncle, killed Sigrid’s father in a punishment raid and declared him outlaw, later reversed the judgement as reward for Sigrid when she saved his life

  Harald Finehair, King of Norway, Sigrid’s grandfather

  Harald Ragnarson, Sigrid’s second son, his friends Ole, Ketil and Inga are the children of servants and thralls at Buttermere

  Hauk Gunnarson, Sigrid’s first husband, died 937

  Helgi Thorkilson, Influential Cumbrian farmer, father of Hildur

  Hildur Helgisdaughter, Sigrid’s fostring

  Hrodney, Thorfinn’s wife, mother of Anlaf, Orm and Skuli, mistress of Rannerdale farm

  Ingefried Sigrid’s servant, killed by the thrall woman Lydia in 937

  Ingolf Sigtryggson, influential Cumbrian farmer, father of Unn

  Kirsten, Sigrid’s Norwegian servant-girl, a healer

  Kjeld Gunnarson, brother of Sigrid’s first husband

  Kveldulf Arnvidson, Sigrid’s father, killed 935

  Kveldulf Ragnarson, Sigrid’s eldest son

  Lothar, Ragnar’s trusted friend from Frankia

  Lydia. Thrall woman from Galicia, belonged to Sigrid’s first husband Hauk, killed Sigrid’s servant Ingefried and was executed by Sigrid

  Maria, Anna (re-named Nanna), Jesus (re-named Veste) Lydia’s children

  Mord Lambason of Keskadale, Lawman, father of Grim, Eirik, Eysten, Bose and Njal

  Olvir, Sigrid’s orphaned nephew and fostring, adopted by her and Ragnar

  Orm Yngvarson, Hrodney’s second son by her first husband

  Felipe the Galician, Kjeld’s sworn man, farms Becklund for Kjeld

  Ragnar Sweinson, childhood sweetheart, father of Sigrid’s son, outlawed because his father Jarl Swein Hjaltebrand from Manx, raided property belonging to King Harald of Norway, pardoned by King Hakon of Norway

  Ragnwald Guthfrithson cousin, rival and co-regent with Anlaf Sigfrithson Known as Cuaran

  Rhun ab Owain, half-brother of King Dunmail of Cumbria

  Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter, the Shieldmaiden

  Skuli Yngvarson, Hrodney’s third son by her first husband

  Sone Ivarson, father of murdered young man

  Sven Threefingers, thrall at Swanhill Kjeld Gunnarson’s farm

  Swein Lotharson, Thora’s son by Lothar the Frankian

  Thora Sweinsdaughter, Ragnar’s sister

  Thorfinn Egilson, Sigrid’s sworn man, reformed berserker, married to Hrodney

  Ulf Bjalkeson, Sigrid’s sworn man, killed in Norway

  Unn Ingolfsdaughter, Sigrid’s fostring, daughter of Ingolf Sigtryggson

  Varg the Varangian, old warrior who swears allegiance to Sigrid

  Wulfstan I, Archbishop of York 931-956

  Wulfrun, young noblewoman taken hostage at Tamworth

  Ylva Flamehair, Ulf’s sister, takes his place as Sigrid’s sworn warrior

  PART ONE

  “Do not complain about the wind – Learn to sail”

  Swedish proverb

  September 940

  When I returned home to claim my inheritance, nobody, not even my husband Ragnar, knew the full extent of my ambition. What I already had should perhaps have been enough; I was married to a great warrior, we had our own land and people would treat me with respect. But I wanted to be recognised by the Cumbrian Norse as a warrior and a landowner in my own right, not as Ragnar’s wife. After all, I had fought in the great battle of Brunnanburgh; then, in Norway, I fought for King Hakon and earned his gratitude. So I wanted to inherit my father’s position as well as his farm and I wanted a voice and a vote at the Thing. I knew I would have to work to earn the respect of local people. I also knew it wouldn’t come easy but easy was never part of my life.

  ***

  Two chieftains and two hirds in the same hall does not work. At Buttermere Farm, I was Ragnar’s wife, mistress of the household, respected and obeyed, but no chieftain. The hall was Ragnar’s, to house and feed the men in his hird. It was now time for me to reward my two sworn men, Anlaf and Thorfinn, and send them home to their families. I divided up the treasure I had brought back from Norway and they praised my generosity. It felt strange to see them go. We had faced many dangers together and they had served me faithfully.

  ***

  The main house at Buttermere was modest for a chieftain’s hall. I could see the warriors comparing it to others they had encountered in the service of jarls and kings, and finding it much inferior. The platforms running the length of the hall served as seats, as well as beds. The crew made themselves comfortable among the straw-filled bolsters, woven blankets and soft skins. We struggled to fit them all in and had to make up more trestle tables. But a welcoming fire burned on a hearth as long as a man is tall, and servants and thralls rushed around offering ale in large horns. We slaughtered pigs and lambs, and every evening we feasted on meat and rich broth. The men enjoyed themselves and didn’t seem to mind the humble surroundings; they were looking forward to raids and plunder, not a quiet time by the fire.

  And Ragnar knew he had to take them raiding soon. A chieftain must reward his crew. We had no land to give and that’s not what these young warriors had come for anyway. We were not poor, King Hakon had rewarded us with lavish gifts when we left Norway but we didn’t have enough to pay off all these men.

  ‘If we don’t sail now,’ he said, ‘it’ll be too late and we’ll get caught up in the winter storms.’

  ***

  I found it hard to accept yet another long separation but I knew he was right. The men were restless. They saw themselves as warriors and few of them were willing to help with the work on the farm. The servants could no
t brew ale quickly enough to satisfy them and they made too much use of my women. Thora was afforded the respect she was due as Ragnar’s sister but not all the crew realised that my servant Kirsten also had special status.

  ‘They pester me, Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. It was only when I threatened them that they left me alone.’

  I caught my breath. ‘What did you threaten them with?’

  She blushed. ‘A curse. I don’t often but ...’

  ‘Kirsten, you must not say anything that will make people believe you’re a seidir. It may give you power over people to begin with but then you get accused of magic and, oh, Kirsten, you know as well as I do that it’s dangerous.’

  ‘Yes, my grandmother told me. I promise I’ll be careful.’

  Thora and Kirsten were safe from unwelcome attention but it was not so for the rest of my women. I hesitated to ask Ragnar to interfere and, while I hesitated, things got worse.

  ‘Sigrid, you must come!’ Kirsten came running, angry and out of breath. ‘All these men. You must do something to stop this. There are too many of them. They have ravaged one of the girls. She’s bleeding. She’s all torn and I don’t know how I shall heal her because now that beardless Dane has dragged her off again. Please stop him.’

  I followed her to the byre. From a pile of hay came the sound of a rutting male and a girl crying. I strode across and shouted.

  ‘Leave her alone, you brute. Can’t you see she’s had enough?’

  He answered over his shoulder, still pumping, his rump moving up and down. ‘Shut up, bloody woman. A warrior’s reward.’

  The air around me filled with a red mist. How dare he speak to me like that? I felt Dragonclaw slide out of her sheath and into my hand. Her sharp blade glowed in anticipation of blood.

  ‘No, be careful, Sigrid. He’s Ragnar’s. Don’t!’ Kirsten’s frightened voice reached me from far away. But I did hear her. Instead of skewering the miserable troll, I hit him hard across the buttocks with the flat of the sword. He screamed, a high-pitched squeal, like a pig and collapsed on top of the poor girl.

  Such humiliation should not be witnessed. It was his ill fortune that two of our thralls had come to see what the noise was about. Unfortunately, they laughed. The man bellowed and rose, his face purple, a scar across his chin bulging. His manhood hung flaccid, exposed. I pointed to it with my sword. The thralls cheered. He tried to step away but his trousers, still round his ankles, tripped him up and he fell in an undignified heap. He reached for his sword. For that Dragonclaw claimed two of his fingers. He sat hunched up, the blood from his mutilated hand soaking the front of his tunic.

  ‘I think you have something to tell me,’ I said. ‘If you do it right, there’s no need for anyone to hear about this.’ I looked at the thralls. ‘Is there?’ One shook his head, the other nodded. Both grinned. But in the next instant, their smiles froze. Ragnar’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. He said nothing but his fury rolled through the byre like a storm-wave. It swept all onlookers away, leaving the two of us staring at each other over the cowering Beardless and the whimpering girl. He hooked his thumbs through his belt. But I saw his hands shaking, so I got my say in first.

  ‘Your men must learn to respect me, Ragnar Sweinson. I have a duty to protect my women and nobody threatens me in my own home.’

  ‘My sworn man, Sigrid. Not yours. Mine to deal with.’

  ‘He drew. I had to defend myself.’ He looked at the girl, bleeding, bruised and trembling. He shook his head in disgust.

  ‘She’s just a child,’ he said. ‘This can’t go on.’ Then he drew Bearkiller and dragged Beardless out into the yard. The man was too stunned to realise what was about to happen. His severed head was put on a pole for all to see. Justice had been done.

  ***

  The execution of Beardless signalled the end of feasting and hastened the departure of Ragnar and his crew. But before he left, there was something he had to deal with. My mother-in-law, Aisgerd, nominal head of the household in Ragnar’s absence, was strong-willed but getting frail. She maintained that she had dealt with everything except one issue.

  ‘Lothar, that false friend of yours, has defiled the family honour,’ she said. Ragnar didn’t seem to know what she meant but I did. Ragnar’s sister Thora carried Lothar’s child. They wished to marry. It should have been very simple, a joyous event, a cause for celebration. It was Thora’s misfortune that Ragnar shared his mother’s delusions regarding the importance of their family.

  The couple came, hand-in-hand. Lothar straight-backed and open-faced, Thora blushing. Ragnar regarded them from under knitted brow. His mother pointed a bony finger at them.

  ‘Look,’ she hissed, ‘they have no shame. Your sister has forgotten that she is the daughter of a Jarl. That Frankian, you left here for our protection, has betrayed your trust.’ Ragnar put a hand on her arm and she fell silent.

  ‘Ragnar Sweinson,’ said Lothar, ‘I ask you to hear me.’ He used the formal address when he could have appealed to the friendship they shared as brothers-in-arms and shipmates. I admired his dignity and dared an encouraging smile. He didn’t see it, but Thora did and she straightened her shoulders. Ragnar waited before responding and when he did his voice was cold as if to a stranger.

  ‘Speak,’ was all he said.

  ‘I come to you with a request. I have become attached to your sister and I ask that you approve our marriage.’

  ‘Oh, so you do, do you? A fine friend you proved to be, Lothar, man-without-name. My sister was not for you to use. I put you in charge of her safety and I return to find her spoiled.’

  ‘I would have asked your permission but you have been absent for a long time. Your sister has chosen me of her own free will. I have displaced no man and I am honoured that she finds me worthy of marriage. I ask your consent.’

  ‘A bit late for that. What, apart from your pretty face, do you have to offer her – and me?’ The insult seemed to take Lothar by surprise. He frowned.

  ‘It’s true that I have no land or fortune. I can offer no bridegeld but you, Ragnar Sweinson, return to a safe household and full storehouses. There was a time when friendship counted for more than gold. If you require bridegeld I shall take my sword and find my fortune abroad, just as you have done.’ Thora let out a sob. She looked like she would faint. Ragnar turned to one of the thralls.

  ‘A seat for my sister.’ At this kindness there was murmur of approval from the household and some of the crew nodded. Even Aisgerd looked pleased, her son living up to her expectations. Lothar’s sword arm twitched and his hand closed in a fist.

  ‘If you release me from my oath to you, I shall go forth and make a name for myself. I shall return with honour and gold, or not at all.’ Thora, from her seat, reached out both arms to Ragnar and cried out.

  ‘Brother, do not deny me this. Lothar is your shipmate of old, your brother-in-arms. He has been a faithful friend and served you well, as have I. If Lothar leaves I leave with him.’

  ‘Sister, this man has no land, no fortune, not even a name.’

  ‘He’s honourable and faithful. I know I shall be safe with him. We have exchanged vows in front of witnesses.’ The hall was full of people but not a sound was heard. Ragnar looked at his mother. She pulled a face.

  ‘Who?’ said Ragnar. He looked round the hall. ‘Who witnessed the hand-fasting?’

  ‘We did,’ Beorn the Lame stepped forward and beckoned to Aluinn, one of the servant women. She joined him to stand next to Lothar and Beorn.

  ‘Oh no, Beorn, no, not you!’ Aisgerd’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.

  ‘Two servants,’ said Ragnar, ‘it doesn’t count.’ I found it impossible to keep still.

  ‘Ragnar, Beorn is more than a servant in this hall.’ The look he gave me made the last remnants of wifely subservience crumble. ‘Husband, allow me to remind you that although your father was a jarl, he died a traitor’s death. You yourself were, until recently, an outlaw. I lived here at Buttermere longer than you a
nd I didn’t notice a single suitor prepared to marry the daughter of a traitor. Your sister has no prospects. You should ...’

  ‘Oh, for the sake of Thor’s goats!’ Ragnar began to get out of his seat. For a moment I thought he would walk away – his usual way of dealing with unwelcome arguments. I stared him out and he seemed to realise that this was not a problem he could turn his back on. Aisgerd let out a sob. Her eyes watered and her lips trembled.

  She turned to me and, with her voice at the point of breaking, said, ‘Sigrid, your tongue is cruel.’

  Because she had been kind to me and because I loved her I knelt in front of my mother-in-law and took her hands in mine.

  ‘Aisgerd, you saw sense once before with your younger daughter. Look at the happiness that has brought. Thora has been a true and devoted child to you, do not deny her this. Your daughter needs a man. You need grandchildren.’ She cried and shook her head. I squeezed her hands and made her look at me.

  ‘Lothar may not come from a great family but he is honest and true. Admit that you know this.’ She gave a reluctant little nod. Ragnar had watched us in silence. Now he spoke.

  ‘Mother, do you give your consent? If it is your wish, we shall have a hand-fasting this very day.’ The silence in the hall was so thick I thought I’d choke on it. Thora’s sobs and Aisgerd’s sighs were the only sounds that broke through from time to time. I could see Ragnar drumming his fingers on the armrest. The men began to fidget. I squeezed Aisgerd’s hands.

  ‘Mother-in-law?’ I felt her shaking.

  ‘Aisgerd, you must speak.’ She looked up at Ragnar and croaked.

  ‘I give my consent.’

  My exhausted household made one last effort. Without a thought for how we’d survive the winter, the storehouses were all but emptied of their smoked hams and salted fish. The thrall women bent their backs over the hand mills and the men went on yet another hunting expedition. It was a measure of the servants’ respect for Thora and Lothar that this feast surpassed anything that had been served up since we returned home.

  ***

  When Ragnar called the crew together to leave, it turned out that not all those who’d come with us from Norway were eager to join him. I was approached by one of them, a warrior with weather-beaten face and a body like an old oak. He had many rings on his arms, given by chieftains who had been well served by his sword. But he was no longer young. This was a fighter at the end of his service.