Shieldmaiden Page 7

  We rode towards the sea where the sun sets. The men were in high spirits and talked of their coming exploits and of past glories. Only Hauk stayed silent. I rode on my own, apart from the others, full of confused thoughts about what I had done.

  We reached the bay where Hauk and his brother Kjeld had knorrs and the men set to readying the boats. We set up camp on the edge of the sea. Hauk led me to shelter among the trees. He set down his pack and built a small fire.

  ‘What brings you, Sigrid?’ he asked. ‘Have you come to make sure you become a widow?’

  The damaged side of his face was in shadow but on the good side there were lines of sorrow which I knew were because of me. I felt a rush of shame and pity. He had done nothing to deserve what I had done to him.

  ‘I seek no widowhood, Hauk. I mean to come with you.’

  ‘I wanted things to be good between us, Sigrid. I have tried my best.’ He reached out. I thought then how much easier it would be if I could but like him but it was remorse, not love, which made my hand meet his and my body lie down next to him. As he entered me I did as always, averted my face and closed my eyes. But this time Hauk wanted more. He commanded in a harsh voice:

  ‘Look at me, wife, look at me, look at me, look at me…’ and each call was followed by a slap across my face. And I did as I was told and I looked at him and my short-lived compassion turned to hate.

  When we sailed the next morning, I sat in the prow, breathing in the salty air. I let my headdress slip down and my hair float on the breeze. The cool wind felt good against my bruised face. I couldn’t quite open my right eye. I put a careful finger to it and felt the tender swelling. My bottom lip had split open and I could taste the blood as I probed it with my tongue. Behind me in the hold the horses snorted and began to stir, unsettled by the rocking of the boat. I slid across to soothe them. I caught Hauk smiling as he looked at me. He was in a good mood. Earlier that morning, thinking he had tamed me, he had treated me with indulgent good humour as he ordered me about. For the time being this suited me and I assumed a quiet demeanour as I helped prepare the knorr for departure. But in the furnace of my chest, my anger burned hot.

  We sailed south hugging the shoreline as far as the bay of shifting sands, where we set course across open water until we found land again and here our voyage took us past a sandy shores and the place called the Black Pool. I had once been there with my father when he traded in this area and I recognised the busy harbour with its rows of wooden piers. We crossed the estuary of the River Ribble and that was my last familiar landmark. From then on I was in unknown waters and a very long way from home.

  The wind swung against us and the men had to use the oars. Our light knorr still made good speed. There were other ships heading the same way. Some were knorrs but most were long, sleek drakkens with so many oars I lost count as I stared at them across the waves. Towards evening we drew close to the shore in search of a beach. I sighted three vessels at anchor and called out to Hauk. I saw horses grazing close by and a glint of metal onboard. This close to the place we had been called to muster, we were unlikely to meet with enemies but we still made sure our weapons were within reach. None of us knew the colourful standard fluttering in the feeble breeze. It had four sides so did not belong to a Norwegian or Dane who favoured three-sided banners. I could make out red and gold and the outlines of two black ravens, facing each other with their wings spread open. As we drew close, Hauk took my place in the prow. A stocky warrior in rich armour stood with his back to the mast in the largest ship. He said something in a melodious accent, I did not recognise.

  ‘From the islands in the North, I think,’ said Hauk. I found the man hard to understand at first but, from Hauk’s answer, I knew he must have asked who we were. Hauk spoke freely stating our intent to take part in the fight against king Aethelstan. As I grew used to the chieftain’s way of speaking, I learnt he was a sworn man of the Earl of Orkney. This earl had called his men to support Olaf Guthfridson, King of Dublin and King Constantine the Scot in their struggle against King Aethelstan of the Saxons and Mercians. He invited us to share the stag roasting over hot embers and ale brought in large barrels.

  The men spent the evening in merry companionship and they all had their fill of ale. I was happy to eat with the women and as darkness fell I retired to the knorr and slept onboard alone. The men woke late and, having sworn everlasting friendship, decided to travel the rest of the way together. We passed the place where the River Mersey flows into the Irish Sea. Many hundred ships had converged on the south side of the estuary. We rowed along the coast until we found a sandy bay to pull in.

  We moored in the vicinity of a small hamlet. There was rain in the air and Hauk decided to stay on the boat and rig up the sail for shelter. The horses were unloaded and led to grazing. Olvir and Ole the Toothless were to watch over them. They were joined by a group of children from the hamlet who offered to look after the horses against payment. I was helping build a fire to prepare the evening meal and gave some apples to the leader of the young gang.

  ‘Three apples,’ he exclaimed, ‘is that all your horses are worth to you, Lady?’

  I laughed at his cheek. He was about nine years old and reminded me of my brothers. I grew melancholy and doubled the pay. This earned me another slap from Hauk. This time I hit back. It took him by surprise and he fell over. This caused much merriment among the children and drew bawdy comments from our own company as well as our Orkney friends. Hauk’s roar carried his fury above the laughter. He scrambled to his feet, drew his sword and came at me. I ran towards the knorr to find my sword but stumbled over the hem of my pinafore and fell. Hauk lunged at me. I saw him and rolled to the side. The sword hit the empty ground next to me. I scrambled to my feet and drew my knife. All I could see was Hauk’s contorted face with the scar red and bulging as he walked towards me with lifted sword.

  A halberd blocked his way. It was wielded by a grey-bearded Orkney warrior in mailshirt and helmet.

  ‘You don’t tame wild things with blows, Northman, try kindness and a little of what they all like.’ He laughed and gestured to his crotch. Hauk made to attack but thought better of it and scowled.

  ‘She’s my wife. I’ll use her any way I want.’

  ‘But she’ll not be much use dead, will she?’ The warrior grinned.

  ‘No, and I don’t mean to kill her. I shall mark her. She’ll carry my mark on her pretty face and then we’ll be equals.’

  From then on I made sure to keep my weapons about me at all times. I took to wearing leggings and a man’s tunic. I wouldn’t stumble again. I also made sure not to turn my back to Hauk.

  A village elder accepted payment and agreed to keep the boats safe for our return. One of his men offered to guide us towards Brunnanburh, a fort by Vin Moor. This is where king Aethelstan had challenged King Constantine, Olaf of Dublin and their allies to a battle which would decide once and for all who would rule over the North of England.

  On Vin Moor a large rectangle had been marked out with hazelrods. On one side was a river and on the other woodland. The ground was as even as it could be in this area of heather and tall grasses. This was to be the battlefield. At either end of the field the two armies had set up their camps. On our side this was a higgeldypiggeldy mass of tents, all of different sizes and colours, clustered around the different standards of the many kings, princes, earls and chieftains gathered together to support King Olaf and King Constantine. The English side looked more orderly with straight lines of tents and standards. Their camp seemed to spread for many furlongs and a great many warriors could be seen moving around there.

  Our friends reported to their liege the Earl of Orkney and were allocated a space for their tents and cooking fires. Hauk was reluctant to part from them but his brother Kjeld convinced him we must join the Dublin Vikings and serve under King Olaf. While Hauk and his brother went in search of the King, I prepared our camp. The men unloaded the carved tent poles and put them so the dragon-heads looked to ei
ther side, keeping guard. At the back two pieces of hazel served to support the cross bar, then the heavy cloth was draped over the frame and secured with wooden pegs and stones. Each of our tents held two or three men. Most of the tents around us were of this size but further along I could see larger ones and some woven in colourful patterns.

  Olvir and Ole the Toothless were sent with the horses to find grazing. Others went to obtain provisions in nearby farms. Both sides had agreed not to plunder but I dare say much food and other goods changed hands without due payment all the same.

  I built our fire. As usual the thrall-women assisted me with sullen faces. All around us women prepared food and men sat around talking, playing dice and tending their weapons.

  ‘I don’t like all this waiting around.’ I overheard one warrior tell another over a shared horn of ale. ‘Negotiations are a waste of time. And, I suspect, new reinforcements arrive for the English every day. They must have a mighty army by now. If we’d attacked straight away they wouldn’t have time to rest and settle in.’

  ‘We’re growing stronger by the day ourselves.’ His companion sounded a bit the worse for drink. ‘Just look at our neighbour here, sword at her side and shield within reach. A couple of shieldmaidens like her and how can we lose?’ They slapped their thighs and roared with laughter. I felt anger warming my cheeks.

  ‘Mind you,’ said his friend,’ she’s not been all that victorious, has she Yngvar, look at the black eye and split lip.’

  I could no longer keep my temper. I was about to confront the insolent oafs, when the one called Yngvar spoke words that made me shiver:

  ‘Ah, but you don’t know what the other one looked like, do you Thorfinn?’

  The name shot through me like a red hot arrow. With not a thought as to the consequences I turned. A heavy jowl, a broken nose and a large red welt across the left side of his neck. I felt a rush of fear as I stared at the man I had left for dead. I dropped the log I was holding and turned away.

  ‘Be still, calm yourself, good lady.’ The man called Yngvar called out. ‘We mean no harm. A little innocent banter, that’s all.’

  Behind me Hauk had overheard. His scar stood out purple and his voice rang with fury as he challenged the two men.

  ‘Don’t, Hauk,’ I said, ‘it is not serious.’

  But Hauk drew his sword. The two men had to respond and reached for their weapons. I grabbed Snakebite and stood, next to the husband I hated and pitied, facing two battle-scarred warriors. My heart-beat rang in my ears and my legs trembled. I could sense Hauk shaking but whether with fear or anger I couldn’t tell. A small crowd gathered around us and among much merriment someone remarked on the spectacle of a wife having to defend her man. That put a stop to any possibility of Hauk backing down. He took a step towards our adversaries. I followed but they retreated.

  ‘We should not fight amongst ourselves. Let’s save our strength for Aethelstan’s fyrd.’

  Although he was still pleading Yngvar raised his two-handed battleaxe and started moving towards us. His companion shrugged his shoulders and followed. An appreciative murmur swept through the group of onlookers but stopped when a commanding voice from somewhere behind me shouted:

  ‘Hold it!’

  Hauk hesitated. Yngvar lifted his battle-axe to strike. I rushed forward and thrust Snakebite into Yngvar’s unprotected belly but it was too late. With a roar Yngvar had let his axe fall on Hauk’s skull. It split his head almost down to his shoulders. Hauk fell to his knees then his body slumped to one side. Half his skull was sliced off and hung still attached by the neck. Blood and grey matter welled out and slid down his shoulders on to the grass. His arms and legs twitched as if he was trying to crawl away. Yngvar staggered and stumbled over Hauk’s body. I couldn’t retract Snakebite so had to let go. As Yngvar fell Snakebite was trapped against the ground and the weight of his body pushed her blade further in until it emerged from between his shoulders. I leapt aside to avoid Thorfinn’s axe and drew my dagger. But Thorfinn was no longer a threat. He was blocked by a man on a horse. My arm was gripped from behind making me drop my knife.

  ‘I said stop!’ The voice was chilling in its calm. The man who had spoken was mounted on a splendid black stallion. The gold trim on his fine woollen cloak and the way other men fell away before him told me he was a man of importance.

  I realised I was alone among strangers and enemies. Hauk was dead, his brother had no interest in keeping me safe and a man I had tried to kill was waiting for revenge. I made my decision in an instant. I fell to my knees and grabbing Hauk’s sword from where it had fallen held it up with the handle pointing to the man on the horse.

  ‘Noble Prince,’ I said, ‘please accept me into your service. My name is Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter. I am trained to fight and I wish…’

  I was interrupted by a howl of derisive laughter from the crowd around us. But Olaf Guthfridson, King of the Dublin Norse, touched the handle of my sword and the laughter stopped. I shivered and looked up at the man who was to lead me into my first battle. He spoke to the crowd:

  ‘Have you forgotten the stories about how in the lands of the North shieldmaidens fought side by side with the warriors of old? Have you forgotten the brave deeds of Hervoer Heidrreksdaughter who carried the sword of her ancestors and led her men in battle or Princess Alfhild of Goathland who went raiding at the helm of her own ship? Sigrid Kveldulfsdaughter will be our shieldmaiden. She will fight alongside you men of the North. She will bring us luck and she will be part of our victory.’

  The laughter turned to cheer but I met Thorfinn’s eyes and was chilled.

  King Aethelstan was still offering compensation to King Constantine, Olaf Guthfridson and their allies, suggesting that, for a sum of money, they should drop their claim on Cumbria. Some wanted to accept but others were full of greed and reasoned that, if they turned it down, Aethelstan would increase the sums of money. This had happened before and each new offer took many days to deliberate. Aethelstan sent a messenger to Constantine, a day-long journey. The allies debated and because there were so many of them this could take several days. A messenger then took the reply to Aethelstan, and more time passed. Meanwhile the warriors waited and only much later did we learn that, while his enemies argued, Aethelstan used the time to bring more men to his army.

  While this was going on I had time to bury Hauk. His brother Kjeld blamed me for not making Hauk stay at home and himself for not being there to defend him. We spoke harsh words and after the last embers of the funeral-pyre had died down we parted with much ill feeling between us. Kjeld spoke with Thorfinn about compensation for the deaths of Yngvar and Hauk.

  ‘We need no more killing between friends and neighbours. There is a gathering at the Thingmound after harvest-time. Let’s meet there and put each our cause to the Lawmen.’

  Thorfinn agreed with this and Kjeld, claiming he’d only come to help his brother, returned home with his own and Hauk’s men. After they left, Thorfinn stayed in his tent for two whole days and nights. Then he came over to where I was now camped alone. He sat looking at me for a long time. His gaze made me uncomfortable and I made sure my weapons were to hand. Then he spoke in his rumbling voice:

  ‘There have been two deaths here, woman. Your husband caused his own demise and he has been revenged. But Yngvar’s passing was your doing. He was a good man and has family in Rannerdale. It will be better for them if you pay blood-money than if I kill you in revenge. This is what Kjeld and I agreed. But now I have thought this matter over. If you or I perish in battle…,’ he fell silent but kept staring at me.

  I felt my skin tingle and my muscles tighten. I knew that, should he ever recognise me and remember what had passed between us by Mosedale Beck, he would not be satisfied with blood-money, he’d want nothing less than my life.

  That night I was kept awake by Thorfinn’s drunken singing. He drank grave-ale for Yngvar, composing bad verse in his honour. He eventually grew silent except for the occasional hiccup and guttural mu
rmur. I fell asleep but woke, thinking I heard a rustling sound outside my tent. I sat up, drew my dagger, waiting to see who my attacker was, Thorfinn, driven by drink to seek early revenge or one of the warriors who ogled me as I moved round the camp. Fingers clawed at the tent-cover. The front flap opened enough for me to see the outline of an arm. Without a word, I stabbed it. There was a cry, high-pitched and feeble. I rolled forward. An empty sleeve was pinned to the ground. I opened the tent-flap. A small figure, half-way out of his too-large tunic, lay shaking with heavy sobs.

  ‘Olvir, oh Olvir! I didn’t mean to hurt you.’ I dragged him inside the tent and closed it. The dagger had cut his sleeve but only grazed the thin wrist.

  ‘You’re supposed to be on your way home. What’s happened?’ He curled up on my lap and I cradled him like a baby until he stopped shaking and his crying abated.

  ‘I’ve come back to look after you, Sigrid. I didn’t want you to be alone.’

  I couldn’t ask Thorfinn about Ragnar without giving away who I was. So for two days I roamed the part of the camp where the Manx Vikings had put up their tents. I spoke with the women and thralls and some had heard of Swein Hjaltebrand but none knew what had become of his son. Apart from Thorfinn I saw nobody I recognised from Jarl Swein’s household. Like a foolish kitten chasing butterflies, I had left my child, the most precious thing in my life, to pursue a mirage. I fell into a deep melancholy and the longing to hold my son in my arms became a like a constant ache in my breast. I decided I must find a way to escape Thorfinn’s watchful eye and get back home. It meant breaking my oath to Olaf of Dublin but I figured he’d have more pressing concerns than my desertion.

  No sooner had I made my decision than we were called to battle. There was no way out. Shortly after daybreak a group of warriors moved against Aethelstan’s camp in a surprise attack. It failed. Aethelstan’s watch spotted them and sounded the alarm. The enemy had the higher ground so, without the advantage of surprise, we had to retreat, line up for battle in the allotted field and wait for the horns to sound. By now the sun sat high in the sky and the heat turned my helmet to a crown of fire. Sweat ran down my brow. I blinked to clear my eyes of the stinging. Then I took my stance, my shield held in front to protect my vitals and my right arm wielding Snakebite. I was ready. Thorfinn stood next to me. He told me he wanted to make sure we both made it to the gathering at the Thingmound. It was a threat, not a promise of friendship. His eyes were shot with red, his jaw worked in a circular motion and he was beginning to foam at the corners of his mouth. Neither of us wore a mailshirt, he because the mushroom-brew made him feel invincible, I because it was too heavy.