Read Banners of the Northmen Online
Authors: Jerry Autieri
Banners of the Northmen
Contents
Banners of the Northmen
by
Jerry Autieri
Copyright © 2013 by Jerry Autieri
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CHAPTER ONE
October 885 CE
Ulfrik crouched behind the shrub willow, peering through the night at squat buildings outlined in silver moonlight. He focused on the mead hall. Orange light seeped from the edges of its doors, though no windows adorned this beggar's hall. His hands tightened on his spear, straining to listen but hearing only the purr of the sea on the nearby beach. With a grunt, he stood, the faded green tunic covering his mail hauberk catching a branch as he did. He replaced his helmet and sidled down slope to his men.
"They're in the hall, no guards at the door," he whispered to his gathered crew. Thirty men hugged the damp and cold earth, metals blackened with mud and dark wool cloaks drawn tight over their heads. Their breath rose in gray curls and their eyes flashed in the dark. They were as anxious as him to close the trap. "But there's no singing, no sounds at all."
The statement fell flat and the men traded worried glances. Toki pulled down his cowl and scratched his scalp. "They should be feasting or celebrating. Do you think they spotted us?"
Ulfrik shook his head. "If they were alerted, they'd be faking a celebration to draw us out. I don't understand the silence."
"A waste of time this was," a man muttered loud enough to demonstrate he wanted all to hear. Ulfrik did not need to see him to recognize Thrand's complaints. "We should not have listened to the gossip of traders."
"Then go back to the ship," Ulfrik hissed, instinctively tucking his head down. He mastered his tone and continued. "You'll get none of the spoils if you do. Are you with us?"
Thrand's dark shape sat like a lump of rock in the darkness. A few heads turned toward him, but most men looked aside. After a moment of chill silence, Ulfrik jabbed his spear butt into the earth to regain attention.
"Einar, you lead seven men up the east side and be in position to pick off anyone fleeing for the trees. Toki, take three men to clear out anyone on guard or wandering near the hall. The rest of you with me. We fire up the hall and kill whoever spills out."
Heads bobbed in acknowledgment. Einar and Toki selected their men and swept into the night. Waiting for them to reach their positions, Ulfrik removed his striking steel and gestured for the tinder box of dried heather branches. A ring of bodies crowded to block the sparks from enemy sight. In moments, Ulfrik breathed life into a small fire while another man unwrapped torches soaked in whale oil.
"We steal from thieves tonight," Ulfrik said to the remaining men. "A great treasure awaits us in that hall, one that will bring us honor and glory. Let's go."
Ulfrik cradled the tinder box while tucking his spear under arm. He did not lead a charge as much as a cautious jog. This was no glorious clash against enemies, no fair fight to bring glory to the victors. He consoled himself knowing these men in the hall were worse: slavers and murders who had happened upon more treasure than they deserved. He needed to raise a stronger army to defeat threats to his people, something only gold could enable.
Halfway to the hall, they touched their oil soaked brands to the tinder box, then converged on the hall. The yellow globes of fire fanned out around the building. A scream that collapsed to a gurgle broke across the field of silver grass. Toki had silenced guards and the raid had begun.
Torches spun through air to land on the roof thatch. A section fell away where a torch landed, such was the poor condition of the building. Too late to reconsider the truth of the raiders' wealth, Ulfrik kicked the hall door with a shout. He stumbled through, expecting it to have been barred but finding no resistance.
Men scrambled to their feet, having been lying close to the hearth in slumber. Ulfrik scanned for the nearest, most alert man, then hurled his spear at him. The ill-thrown shaft pierced the man's thigh and he collapsed with a howl of shock and pain. Ulfrik unslung his shield and drew his sword, blocking the door while he hoped the roof caught flame.
The raiders' leader sprung from the floor, clothed and wrapped in a bear skin, but unarmed. He kicked his drowsy men to life while the first tendrils of smoke spread along the murky ceiling. He and Ulfrik noted the smoke at the same time, and Ulfrik pulled back to seal the doors. He had only wanted to alarm and confuse them, and not burst in on them.
"Bar the door," he shouted as he backed up. His men fed spear shafts through the door handles. In the same moment those trapped inside slammed against the door, cursing and screaming.
The main force now trapped, Ulfrik spun about to face reinforcements. His crew had spread out, eyes on the surrounding buildings and weapons held low. No one came from the darkness, only Toki and his men emerging to the edge of the moonlight.
"They're all inside the hall," Ulfrik said, more to himself than anyone else. No women or villagers had been seen on the way in and none now came to the brightening glow of flaming thatch. This place was a hideout and not the home he had been told to expect. He hoped the other information was not as wrong.
The thud of axes shuddered on the hall walls, shaking off flaming bits of roof as the men inside chopped open an escape. The flames were not catching fast enough, and were dying in spots. Too much moisture was in the air and had permeated the thatch. But fear had gripped the enemy, and Ulfrik counted a frightened opponent half beaten.
Men burst through the wall with growls and oaths on their lips. Ulfrik and his crew prepared to meet them with iron. The first pair flew from the gap with axes flailing in wild arcs. Spears impaled them, and Ulfrik's crew shoved their bodies back into the gap to impede the others. But desperation won out, and more spilled through.
Another ax sundered the wall and widened the gap. Ulfrik trudged forward with his shield out, realizing the men inside were breaking free and had to be killed the hard way. "Crowd them at the wall," he ordered. "Don't let them escape in force. You three, follow me to the opposite side."
At a brisk stride, the men fell in behind. Rounding the corner, he found what he expected: another breach where an arm and leg already poked through. As the man fell out of the narrow opening, Ulfrik kicked him onto his back and stabbed down into his gut. A rush of others followed on the first, and Ulfrik wheeled to find the wall had collapsed wide enough to let through two men at once.
Now men leapt out, and Ulfrik ducked behind his shield as a poorly aimed blow struck for him. His three other men engaged those trying to flee, leaving Ulfrik to fend against two more.
The two foes ranged about him, and Ulfrik saw the rabid glint in the eye of the one he had named as the leader. Each wielded a short sword better suited for a shield wall than a fight in the open. Neither had shields. "Surrender and I will show mercy," Ulfrik said, though not softening his stance.
"By Odin's one eye! Die, you fucking dog!" The leader snarled and rushed forward.
Ulfrik named the strike before it even launched, reading the intention in the undisciplined motions of the leader. Turning to the side, Ulfrik slammed the rim of his shield into the face of the second attacker as he watched the leader's blade flash blue and orange in the night. A satisfying snap of breaking bone preceded the other attacker's scream. The fight unfolded like the slow melt of ice on a warm morning. Ulfrik merely had to watch the leader overextend his ferocious strike, wait for the armpit and ribs to slide out from behind the protective animal pelt, then ram his sword into the exposed flesh.
The blade slithered between the ribs beneath the leader's sword arm. The other opponent struggled to see through the blood and tears of his ruined face while his leader tumbled to the ground with death in his eyes. Ulfrik yanked up and back, so his sword would not snap as the man collapsed. It exited with a sucking noise and a thin trickle of blood trailed the blade.
Whirling to face his second attacker, he discovered the man crashing to the grass with a sword blade in his neck. Thorstein, one of Ulfrik's crew, had dispatched his foes and now assisted him. With all the attackers slain on his side, Ulfrik looped around the back of the hall to ensure no others had carved an exit. None had. Then he rejoined his men on their side, finding an easy victory for his crew.
The raid was over. Bodies heaped on the ground, some still half trapped in the breached walls. Blood puddled and arms twitched in the final moments of life. Over twenty raiders lay dead in a ring about their smoldering hall. The thatch fire pitifully burned out, and a section of roof collapsed as if to announce the end of hostilities.
Ulfrik surveyed the carnage with a smile. His men all stood, though some clutched wounds, and he had taken no losses in the gambit. Now he had to only count the spoils.
He called Einar out of his guarding position, and in moments all of his men had gathered around the hall. Many were already hunched over the dead and stripping away valuables.
"Not much of a fire," Toki said as he came to Ulfrik's side.
"But better off without it, honestly. No waiting for ashes to cool. Now we can be off at first light and head home." Ulfrik rubbed his hands, anticipating the treasures stacked inside the hall. The traders had described enough wealth to see his crews through winter. It only needed to be pulled from the wreckage of the raiders' hall.
"Call Snorri around with the ship. We'll have theirs to tow, and I want to get this treasure on our ships tonight. This is a glorious moment." Toki laughed as he departed to execute Ulfrik's command. Ulfrik wiped the blood from his sword and smiled.
At first Ulfrik blamed the moonlight. Later, he convinced himself the treasure lay buried under the hall. Finally, he told himself the wealth they had collected was acceptable for the effort expended. Squatting in a ring of men under the pink and yellow streaks of dawn, Ulfrik lifted a plain silver armband from the small pile of treasure before him. He rotated it through his hands, feeling the cold metal warm in his grip. Tossing it back onto the pile, the band gave a bright clink. Sea birds screeched in the distance.
"Once we hack down the rings and a few of those plates, everyone should take away a fair portion of silver." Snorri's old voice sounded like thunder in the silent cluster of disappointed men. "I don't get a share, since I didn't do any of the fighting."
"You guarded our ship, and rowed like the rest of us," Ulfrik said as rose to his feet. He grimaced as pain shot through his leg, a gift from his old enemy Hardar. "We agreed beforehand, and you'll get your due."
"Then I'll forfeit my share to you. I'm an old man, and I can't eat silver anyway."
"You can't even eat soup," Einar, his stepson, quipped. "Not with three teeth." Laughter rippled through the group, Ulfrik sensing the heaviness concealed behind it. He laughed as well, and rubbed his leg while smiling at Snorri. Age had seized him in these few years, rendering his face sunken and leathery and his motions labored and stiff. Heavy black rings circled eyes peering from behind grayish locks of hair. At least he had not gone bald, and retained an uncommon amount of hair for the old age of forty-five. Ulfrik still remembered him as a man half that age, standing with him in his father's shield wall.
