The Viking's Touch

‘Can we ride along the shore, Mother?’

She knew he was thinking of another canter along the strand, but she had not the heart to refuse. Besides, she had no mind to return just yet either. ‘Why not?’

They rode single file through the dunes, letting the horses pick their way, and came at last to the bay beyond. Ina and Eyvind stopped abruptly.

‘Mother, look!’

Anwyn followed the line of his pointing finger and stared in her turn, her startled gaze taking in the ship drawn up on the beach and before it the massed host of the crew. There had to be seventy of them at least.

‘A warship,’ said Ina.

Uneasiness replaced her earlier mood. ‘But why would it put in here?’

‘At a guess it’s been damaged. See the sail spread out there?’

She nodded. ‘That would certainly explain their presence.’

Looking more closely, she surveyed the crew. Though they were apparently giving their whole attention to the sail and yard that lay on the sand, she noted that all of them were armed with sword or axe and that shields and spears were within easy reach. She wasn’t the only one to mark it.

‘Professionals definitely,’ said Ina.

‘But apparently not aggressors,’ she replied.

‘No. They’re coming now.’ He nodded towards the force that had just appeared on the far side of the bay.

Anwyn frowned. ‘Who on earth …?’

‘Ingvar’s war band, my lady.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure. That’s Grymar out in front.’

‘But they have no business here. This bay adjoins my lands.’

‘Which they must have crossed to reach it,’ he replied.

‘How dare he?’

‘Even Grymar would not have presumed so far unless the action had been sanctioned by someone more powerful.’

‘He takes his orders directly from Ingvar.’

‘Just so, my lady.’

The implication was disturbing. Under Ina’s stewardship her late husband’s men patrolled and guarded Drakensburgh, and they had no need of help from Ingvar. The fact that he had taken it upon himself to send an armed force onto her land had ramifications she did not care for. It was as though he were already adopting the mantle of lord protector, a role she had no intention of granting him.

‘This bodes ill,’ she said.

Ina nodded. ‘Where Grymar’s concerned it never bodes anything else. That one would slit his grandmother’s throat for the fun of it.’

‘This must be a show of strength. He cannot seriously intend to fight.’ She hesitated. ‘Can he?’

‘I have a gut feeling that’s exactly what he does intend, my lady.’

Wulfgar watched the war band approaching, mentally estimating their number. His jaw tightened. There must be fifty of them. His own force was larger and he had every faith in their prowess, but any confrontation was likely to be bloody and expensive. However, since the ship was effectively crippled there was no real choice. He glanced at Hermund.

‘Have the men fall in.’

‘Aye, my lord.’

They formed up alongside him, waiting.

‘Let them start it if they must,’ said Wulfgar, ‘but after they have make them regret it.’

The words were greeted with grim smiles as each man there eyed the advancing foe with shrewd, appraising eyes. Fists tightened on shield straps and sword hilts.

Anwyn felt a knot of apprehension form in her stomach. Even from a distance now there was no mistaking what was about to happen. She looked across at Ina.

‘I will not have a blood bath on my land though a dozen Ingvars wished it.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Stop it, of course.’

‘A laudable aim, my lady, but you will have noticed that together they number well over a hundred while we …’

‘Yes, I know. However, this bay abuts onto my land, not theirs.’

‘True, but I don’t quite see …’

‘We have right on our side, Ina.’

‘Oh, well, naturally that makes all the difference.’

‘Exactly.’ Anwyn turned in the saddle. ‘Jodis, stay here and look after Eyvind. Ina, come with me.’

With that she nudged her mount forward and cantered away across the sand. Ina stared after her in disbelief. Then, setting his jaw, he rode off in her wake.

Watching the oncoming force, Hermund frowned. ‘Have we fetched up at a local rallying point by any chance?’

‘Could be.’ Wulfgar followed the line of his gaze. ‘We do seem to have kicked a hornets’ nest, don’t we?’

‘How in the name of the Nidhoggr could Big Mouth have this many friends?’ muttered Thrand.

Beorn shook his head. ‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’

Wulfgar made no reply, mentally estimating the distance between themselves and the advancing warriors. Seventy yards … fifty yards … forty. He watched as the line of their spears shifted from the vertical to the fore.

‘Here we go,’ muttered Hermund.

Beside him, Wulfgar drew his sword. ‘All right, lads—’

He broke off, seeing a blur of movement from the corner of his eye. The blur became a galloping horse. Moments later the rider reined hard and the animal plunged to a halt between the two opposing forces. Almost simultaneously a woman’s voice rang out.

‘Stop this at once! All of you!’

The oncoming warriors stopped in their tracks. All eyes turned towards the speaker. Wulfgar mentally registered a slender figure in a deep blue gown. It was partly concealed by a grey mantle over which a thick red-gold braid flowed like a river of fire. Then she turned in his direction and for a moment he forgot to breathe.

‘Thor’s blood,’ muttered Thrand.

Beorn stared. ‘Am I really seeing what I think I’m seeing?’

‘No, you’re dreaming, Brother.’

‘Don’t wake me then, I beg.’

Wulfgar could understand the thinking, although clearly the woman before him was a living being and not a dream. Before he could pursue the thought she spoke again.

‘There will be no bloodshed here!’

Hermund leaned on his spear and his craggy features split in a broad grin. ‘Well, Frigg alone knows where we are, but it was worth coming just for this.’

Wulfgar’s eyes gleamed and he relaxed the grip on his sword hilt. ‘You never said a truer word, my friend.’ Even as he answered his mind was buzzing. Who was she? Why had she intervened? What manner of woman would dare to come between two opposing war bands? Not only dare to come between, but do it in the expectation of being obeyed? His curiosity mounted.

Ignoring the collective attention focused on her, Anwyn turned to confront Grymar. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

He jerked his head towards the ship’s crew some twenty yards distant. ‘My men and I were about to get rid of these scurvy intruders, my lady.’

‘On whose orders?’

‘Those of Lord Ingvar.’

‘These are my lands,’ she replied. ‘Lord Ingvar has no jurisdiction here.’

Grymar reddened. ‘He desires that we protect you, my lady.’

‘That is most kind of him, but I have my own protection.’ She gestured towards Ina. ‘Your help is not required.’

‘One old man? He couldn’t defend an argument.’

‘Put the matter to the test, oaf, and we’ll see what I can defend,’ growled Ina.

‘I wouldn’t take advantage.’

‘You’d be foolish to try,’ replied Anwyn, ‘especially as there are forty more of my men waiting in the dunes yonder.’

A muscle spasmed Ina’s cheek. However, Grymar missed it, darting a glance to the place she had indicated. The dunes were quiet, the only movement the wind in the marram grass. He regarded her suspiciously.

‘There’s no-one over there.’

Ina raised a grizzled brow. ‘Are you calling my lady a liar?’

Grymar reddened further. ‘I did not say so. I meant only that I cannot see anyone.’

‘That’s because they’re hidden.’

‘Be that as it may, what I am saying is that yonder riff-raff are trespassers.’

‘So are you,’ replied Ina, ‘but if you and your men leave now we’ll overlook it—this time.’

Grymar’s glare was poisonous. ‘Lord Ingvar isn’t going to like this.’

‘Dear me, how awful.’

Anwyn threw Ina a warning glance, knowing she could not afford to make an enemy of Ingvar. He was strong and potentially dangerous. Somehow he had to be kept on side while she made it clear that she would not tolerate this kind of interference in her affairs.

‘Lord Ingvar has always been a good neighbour,’ she replied. ‘He would never have sanctioned such a violation as this.’

Ina nodded. ‘You are right, my lady. It’s my belief that Grymar has acted on his own initiative in an excess of zeal.’

She saw the chance and seized it. ‘Yes, that must be it. His lordship will no doubt be greatly angered when he discovers what has happened.’

Grymar scowled. He knew enough about his master’s ambitions to realise that he would not be pleased by the creation of an open rift with Lady Anwyn. Moreover, it looked now as if all the blame was shifting his way.

‘If I have offended you, my lady, I am sorry for it.’

She favoured him with a haughty stare. ‘You have indeed caused me offence. You will take your men and leave.’

He threw a last look of detestation at her escort and at the ship’s crew, then turned his horse and barked an order to his men. Moments later the whole horde marched away up the beach. As she watched them depart, Anwyn let out the breath she had been holding.

‘Good riddance.’

Ina grimaced. ‘Good riddance indeed, as far as that goes.’

‘They won’t be back’

‘No,’ he replied, ‘they won’t, but that lot are still very much here.’ He jerked his head towards the watching crewmen. ‘And now we have their undivided attention.’

Chapter Three

Anwyn darted a glance at the silent warrior band and felt her heartbeat quicken. For a brief instant she wondered if she had not made a terrible mistake: visions of capture and slavery loomed large. Then resolution reasserted itself. She had come too far to back down now.

Turning her horse, she rode the last few yards towards them. They let her come. What she saw left her in no doubt that Ina was right: they were professionals, bearing themselves with the quiet confidence of men who have nothing to prove. Far from showing any expression of hostility, their faces revealed a very different range of emotions. These covered everything from rapt interest to amusement and frank enjoyment. For some reason it was far more disconcerting than warlike intent could ever have been. Anwyn lifted her chin and took a deep breath. Then, under the gauntlet of their eyes, she sought out the man who led them.

‘Which one of you is chief here?’

From the van of their ranks a man stepped forward. ‘I am.’

For the space of a few heartbeats they surveyed each other in silence. Her gaze took in a lithe and powerful figure clad in a mail shirt worn over leather tunic and breeches. One hand held a fine sword, companion no doubt to the dagger that hung from his belt, and on his left arm he carried a linden-wood shield embossed with iron. The upper part of his face was hidden by the guards of a helmet whose crest bore the likeness of a hunting wolf. Below it she could make out the strong lines of his jaw and mouth. Undisturbed by her scrutiny, he turned and handed the shield to one of his men. Then he removed the helmet and tossed that over, too. As he turned back again, Anwyn’s breath caught in her throat. The face with its chiselled clean-shaven lines was striking for its good looks. A vivid blue gaze met and held hers. In it she saw the same light of amusement she had detected before in his men. Her chin lifted a little higher.

‘Do you have a name?’

‘Do you?’ he replied.

‘I asked first.’

His lips twitched. ‘Lord Wulfgar, at your service.’

‘I am Anwyn, Lady of Drakensburgh.’

‘I beg you will forgive our trespass, my lady. My ship was damaged in the storm yester night and we sought a quiet haven in which to carry out repairs.’

‘A quiet haven?’ she replied. ‘It has hardly been that.’

‘No, but matters would have been much worse had you not intervened.’ He paused. ‘Why did you?’

‘Because I would not have blood shed here for no good cause.’

‘Your neighbours do not share that view.’

‘They had no right to pronounce on the matter.’ Anwyn met his gaze. ‘Yet their suspicions were perhaps not without foundation.’

‘We intend no harm if that is what you mean. We have business elsewhere and once our repairs are complete we will leave.’

‘I see. May I ask whither you are bound?’

‘We go to join Rollo.’

‘Rollo? But he’s a notorious pirate.’

‘That’s right.’

Anwyn paled a little. ‘You are mercenaries then.’

‘Correct.’

This frank admission was deeply disquieting, and rendered all the more so by her inability to read what lay behind that outwardly courteous manner.

‘However,’ he continued,’ until we can repair our vessel all else is irrelevant.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Have we your permission to stay and do the necessary work?’

She took a deep breath. ‘I think you have no choice since your ship cannot leave without it.’

‘We could leave under oars,’ he replied, ‘but the next large wave we encountered would likely sink us.’

‘How long will it take to mend the damage?’

‘With luck, a few days only.’

Relief washed in. She nodded. ‘Very well. Carry out your repairs if you will.’

‘I thank you.’ He paused. ‘One thing more I would ask.’

‘And that is?’

‘The use of a forge if you have one—and a carpenter’s workshop.’

‘That’s two things.’

He smiled. ‘So it is. But then, as I am a mercenary, it cannot surprise you that I should try to secure the best possible bargain.’

His words drew a reluctant answering smile. Inwardly she wondered if she could trust him or whether this was some kind of trick. All the same, the only way to be free of the problem now was to help him.

‘We have both things. Send some men to Drakensburgh tomorrow and we will show them where.’ She pointed to the dunes. ‘The way is yonder, due west about half a league distant.’

‘Again, my thanks, lady.’

Anwyn nodded and turned her horse’s head. Then, accompanied by Ina, she rode back to where Jodis and Eyvind were waiting. Wulfgar looked on in some surprise; he had been so preoccupied with events that he not noticed the presence of the other two figures at the edge of the beach. They were too far away for him to make out details, but again his curiosity stirred. Who were they? What was their connection with Lady Anwyn? He watched as they exchanged a few words and then all four rode away through the dunes.

‘A mighty pretty woman,’ said Hermund, when the last of the riders was gone from view. ‘Courageous, too.’

‘Aye, she is,’ replied Wulfgar.

His companion chuckled softly. ‘I thought that Grymar oaf was going to explode. I’d like to be a fly on the wall when he gets back.’

‘So would I.’

‘His master doesn’t sound much better.’

‘Ingvar?’ said Wulfgar. ‘No matter. We’re not like to meet him anyway.’

‘Small mercies, eh?’

‘As you say.’

‘Well, now that peace has broken out I guess we can get on with those repairs.’

Wulfgar nodded. Then, divesting himself of weapons and armour, he rejoined his men and set to. However, although his hands were busy, his mind returned to recent events and he smiled to himself. Hermund was right; the woman was courageous. He’d never met anyone quite like her. Anwyn. He wouldn’t forget the name or the face, either. No man would. Yet it was the eyes he remembered most clearly; eyes as green as a summer sea and deep enough to drown in …

Unbidden, the memory returned of another pair of eyes, blue this time and bright with welling tears. The face was harder to recall now, though once it had occupied his every waking thought. Freya: golden-haired, gentle, quiet … her beauty had captivated the youth he had been. Captivated for a while, at least. In the final analysis he had been a poor husband to her.

No doubt Lady Anwyn’s lord was smart enough to know what he had; a woman of fire with wit allied to beauty and courage. He caught himself then—where was her husband? If the lady had found it necessary to deal with the situation herself it argued that her man was away—fighting, no doubt. It was a common enough occurrence. Had he not done the same?

He sighed. It was too late for regret or remorse, though he had experienced both. We are the decisions we make. It was true, thought Wulfgar, which was why he found himself wandering the earth with a group of mercenaries: fighting, feasting, living for the day. It wasn’t a bad life, take it all in all. Anyway, what else was there now? Eventually, of course, his luck would run out, or the gods would tire of him, and he would meet his end on some field of battle. So long as he died with a sword in his hand and could take his place in Odin’s hall, the time and place of his demise mattered little. All that mattered was the readiness.

The afternoon’s encounter had also left Anwyn much preoccupied and not a little concerned. It dominated her thoughts even after she had retired. By now Lord Ingvar would have heard the tale and would, no doubt, be greatly displeased. She could almost certainly expect another visit from him in the near future. As if that were not enough a force of trained mercenaries was presently encamped on her land, or as good as. Now that there was leisure to reflect, she wondered if her earlier decision had been the right one. She sighed. It was too late for that. If they chose to take advantage, she would be caught between a rock and a hard place. Yet their leader had not seemed treacherous to her. On the contrary.

Unbidden, his face returned in sharp relief. The memory was disturbing. She had never met anyone quite like him; he bore all the trappings of the warrior, radiated an aura of strength, but she had not felt personally threatened. He did not make her feel as Ingvar did when in her company; as Torstein had made her feel. Indeed, when she had ridden away the sensation had been quite different, almost as though something had been lost. It was difficult to account for, difficult and perturbing. Unable to sleep, she crept from the bed and, wrapping herself in a mantle against the night air, went silently to the adjoining chamber where her son lay sleeping. For a long time she watched him. He was the one good thing to come from her marriage. His birth had been long and hard, but Eyvind made sense of all the rest; he was the reason she kept on living, the reason she submitted to Torstein’s will.

Anwyn shivered and pulled her mantle closer. Torstein was dead. Her son was safe from him. She bent over the child and dropped a kiss on his forehead. He stirred a little, but did not wake. Looking at him lying there, she suddenly felt fiercely protective. As long as she had breath in her body no harm should come to him. She must look after his interests until he grew to manhood. Nothing else mattered now. It would not be easy; her family was ambitious and, as Jodis had said, a woman alone was vulnerable.

Returning to bed, Anwyn curled up, pulling the coverlet close. Tired now, she closed her eyes and let her body relax, pushing the day’s events from her mind. Gradually the bed grew warmer and sleep eventually claimed her. However, it came with the same troubling dreams …

Somewhere she heard a door opening, heavy footsteps in the outer chamber, a hand drawing aside the partitioning curtain to reveal her husband’s ursine figure silhouetted against the dim light beyond. At forty Torstein was more than twice her age. Though only of average height, his bulk reinforced the impression of bearlike strength. The dome of his head was bald, the remaining fringe of hair worn long and tightly braided into numerous thin plaits that hung past his shoulders like rats’ tails. A moustache and bushy, grizzled beard concealed a thin mouth and hid the lower part of a heavily lined face from which small black eyes surveyed the world with quiet cunning. Now they came to rest on her and glinted.

Crossing the intervening space to the bed, he threw aside his cloak and, unfastening his belt, pulled off his tunic and tossed it after the mantle. His shirt followed, revealing the mat of crisp black hair that covered his torso. Anwyn stiffened, feeling the mattress sag beneath his weight. He unfastened his breeches and then reached for her. She tried to turn away, but strong hands dragged her back and a gust of fetid breath hit her in the face. Sickened, she turned her head aside.

‘Torstein, it’s late and I’m tired.’

‘You’ll do as you’re bid.’

He fumbled for her linen kirtle and dragged it up around her waist so that her lower body was naked. Involuntarily she shuddered. As he leaned closer his hairy paunch scratched her belly, the beefy, leering face within inches of hers.

‘I thought I’d schooled you in obedience,’ he went on, ‘but perhaps I was mistaken.’

She bit back the reply that she wanted to utter, knowing better. ‘My lord, you are not mistaken.’

‘No? Let’s see, shall we?’

Anwyn woke with a start, panting, heart pounding, staring wide-eyed into the furthest corners of the room. Nothing moved. Her gaze came to rest on the bed. The place beside her was empty. She was alone. Slowly she let out a long breath as her mind assimilated the knowledge. Torstein was never coming back. As the minutes passed, horror was replaced by relief so intense it left her trembling. She swallowed hard and lowered herself onto the pillows again, waiting for her heartbeat to quiet a little. Torstein was never coming back. Now Ingvar waited, biding his time.

‘Never,’ she murmured. ‘Not while I have breath.’ To think that once, long ago in another life, she had dreamed of being married, of having a man’s love. She smiled wryly. How naïve she had been then to think that the two things went together. All such girlhood fantasies were long gone; if love between husband and wife existed in this world it was for others, not for her.

Chapter Four

The following morning Wulfgar left Hermund in charge of the ship and, accompanied by Thrand, Beorn and Asulf, set off for Drakensburgh. Built on a low hill and surrounded by a deep ditch and a high, spiked wooden pale, it wasn’t hard to find.

‘Balder’s toenails! The place is a fortress,’ said Thrand. ‘Whoever lives here is a man of some importance.’

‘Is this a good idea, my lord?’ asked Beorn. ‘It could be a trap.’

All three men looked at Wulfgar. He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so, but keep your wits about you all the same. Come on.’

They reached the wooden bridge that spanned the ditch and, when challenged, identified themselves. It seemed they were expected. There followed sounds of a bar being removed and then the small wicket gate swung open to admit them. From there they were escorted across a large compound in which stood various buildings. Wulfgar noted a barn, storehouses, workshops and small dwellings before at length they came to a large timbered hall. Fantastically carved pillars flanked the great oaken doors. However, the atmosphere within was more sombre. The only light came from the open portal and the hole in the roof above the rectangular hearth pit where the remains of a fire smouldered in a bed of ash. Through the gloom Wulfgar made out smoke-blackened timbers adorned with racks of antlers and wolf masks. Trestle tables and benches were stacked against the walls, but at the far end of the room on a raised platform was a huge oaken chair, carved with the likeness of birds and animals. The air smelled of smoke and ale and stale food.