Taken by the Viking. Michelle Styles
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and a peaceful expression crossed his face.
Annis hunched farther down as the Viken began to clamber on board, laughing and joking. They appeared to be elated with today’s work and she could think only of the countless lives that had been destroyed.
She recognised the backs of Haakon and his brother as they took up an oar very near her. The serpent ship began slide over the water, taking her away from Northumbria, from everything she had ever known.
A single tear trickled down her cheek. She allowed it to linger.
‘Some day I will regain my freedom,’ she vowed, clenching her fists. ‘I shall not remain this Viken’s slave for ever.’
Chapter Four
‘Home at last!’ Thrand said, as the Golden Serpent slid on to the sandy shore. ‘I can’t believe how much I missed it.’
‘I cherish every day I spend here.’ Haakon breathed deeply, savouring his first steps back on his land. All his muscles sighed as he was able to stretch for the first time since they had left Lindisfarne.
‘No, you were the lucky one, the one who goes out adventuring, seeing new lands, meeting new people, gaining treasure.’
‘But I never forget this fjord and the estate on the headland. It is what gives me a reason for living.’ There was something special about his lands and the scent of pine trees that greeted him. This was home and he knew every inch of the ground. Through out the long years at Charlemagne’s court, he had visited it often in his mind, reminding himself why he was a Norseman and not a subject of Charlemagne. ‘If I could, I would remain here farming, but the harvests are too uncertain. My people come first. And so I have to leave to trade.’
‘Adventure is a better description.’
‘Now that you have experienced one voyage, Thrand, you can see that adventure is not always safe or pleasant.’
‘But we have amassed a huge horde of gold and treasure, and the voyage back was swift.’ Thrand raised his hands above his head and gave a smile. ‘Njordr the sea god was in a good mood.’
‘The waves were swift and the winds favourable. We have made excellent time.’
Thrand’s face sobered. ‘But now we will have to endure my mother.’
‘She expected me to perish.’ Haakon stared at the wooden hall and its outbuildings. ‘I am not sorry to disappoint her.’
‘She cursed your name, and I hate to think what she said about me once she discovered that, despite everything, you had allowed me to go.’ Thrand prodded a chest with the toe of his boot. ‘I believe I will see to the unloading. You do the ceremony of welcome on your own. You are the Jaarl of this estate, after all.’
‘If you wish. Your mother will have to be faced, Thrand, sooner or later.’
‘As I said, I’d prefer later.’ Thrand smiled and put his hands behind the back of his head. ‘After she knows that I made a success of it, and returned back with gold. You know what she is like.’
‘I do indeed.’ Haakon nodded towards the great hall with its gabled roof. ‘And if you wish to avoid Guthrun, I would begin unloading those chests—here comes the welcoming party.’
‘Better you than me.’ Thrand clapped him on the back and disappeared back down into the hold.
Haakon’s mouth turned upwards in a bitter smile as his stepmother processed outwards from the hall, carrying the ritual horn of mead. Not a greying blond hair was out of place and she wore her best apron-dress over a linen shift. The large gold oval brooches his father had given her shone. Her eyes widened slightly and her hand trembled, spilling a bit of the mead, as she realised who was standing before her.
She had not expected to set eyes on him again, Haakon thought with sudden insight. She had seen only the red-and-white sail, and had no idea who was on the ship.
‘Guthrun, we have returned,’ he said, accepting the horn and drinking deep from it as his dogs ran up, barking, to greet him. With his plumed tail wagging and his white eye-patch looking more roguish than ever, Floki was in the lead, determined to be the first dog to welcome his master. Haakon bent down to pat his favourite elkhound, who responded by turning over and baring his stomach.
‘I expected you would—one way or another. The gods favour you, Haakon Haroldson.’ Guthrun gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘You are back earlier than expected. Did it go badly for you? Have your masts broken? I told you the voyage was ill starred.’
Haakon retained a grip on his temper. He had no wish for disharmony in front of his men. ‘I am pleased to return to the northern lands and my home with my honour intact and the hold of my ship groaning with gold.’
‘Have you brought your half-brother back alive?’ she asked in a deceptively quiet voice, with her eyes hooded.
‘Thrand survived and prospered as I predicted.’ Haakon handed the drinking horn back to her. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, remembering how she had screamed and torn her hair when she was informed that Thrand was going. ‘He served me well, and the skalds will some day sing of his fighting prowess.’
Guthrun nodded, seeming to accept the statement. ‘And the other members of the felag? Have they returned as well?’
‘We lost Bjorn.’ Haakon kept his voice quiet and even. There was no need to recount the story in any great detail. She would learn soon enough.
‘His family will be upset.’ Her pale eyes flickered with something. Regret? Fear? But it was so brief Haakon wondered if he had imagined it. ‘He was renowned as a fighter. How did he die?’
‘He was in the blood-lust, and failed to recognise me. We fought.’ Haakon stared toward where Annis and the rest of the Northumbrians were disembarking. ‘There can be no question of oath-breaking when a man is in the grip of berserker madness. He lost his senses.’
‘It is a shame that he reached such a sorry end.’ Guthrun bowed her head, the perfect embodiment of a Viken lady, but Haakon knew she hid her knives well. She had not forgiven his father for having a child before her son. He would have thrown her out two years ago when his father died, but she had inherited part of the estate and until now, he lacked the gold to purchase it. ‘You will have to pay compensation. I hope you can afford it. The harvest has been less than last year.’
‘This voyage will provide the gold and silver required.’
With a struggle Guthrun controlled her face but Haakon was not fooled. He knew what drove his stepmother—luxury, money and her son. She rubbed forefinger and thumb together. ‘How much is my son’s share? He is your brother, Haakon Haroldson, and entitled to more than an ordinary member of the felag.’
‘We have succeeded beyond our wildest expectations. Thrand will be able to afford his own estate and retainers.’
‘You see I was correct to urge you to take Thrand on this expedition.’ Guthrun’s smile increased as she waggled her fingers at her son where he was busy supervising the unloading. ‘He undoubtedly played a big part in its success.’
‘Odin and Thor were with us on this voyage, providing gold, silver and captives.’ Haakon gestured towards where the group of dispirited monks and Annis stood. The once-pristine white robes of the monks were now stained and mud-splattered. Alone among the group, Annis stood with her head held proud, no longer bowed but challenging with furious eyes. Through out the journey, she had never complained, but had regarded all around her in stony silence. ‘It will take several days to unload and divide the spoils. Then we make our sacrifices to the Aesir and feast.’
‘That woman is wearing your cloak,’ Guthrun observed.
‘Yes, she is under my protection,’ Haakon replied in a mild tone. ‘She is the daughter of a Northumbrian nobleman.’
Guthrun made an irritated noise in the back of her throat.