A Viking Moon

  The hall was packed full of people, men talking quietly amongst themselves as they waited, women standing silently for they knew what these new visitors heralded. Even the children were subdued and sat still by their mothers. When Magnus and the men from the fields arrived, Geir stood and formally welcomed the visitors standing beside him. Sarah didn’t hear their names but knew from both the formality of the welcome and the reactions of the people in the hall that these were very important members of the King’s court.

  Their thick fur cloaks were held on by ornate circular gold brooches, their fine clothing proclaiming their nobility. Both wore the Hammer of Thor with pride as they stood tall in front of the crowd unsmiling. The right hand of the tallest one kept going to his side only to find that the scabbard which usually hung there, now was not. Their swords were hanging on hooks by the door, as a sign of goodwill. When Geir had finished welcoming the Kings men, the tall one stepped forward to speak, his hand stroking his moustache thoughtfully.

  “Thank you Jarl Geir for your welcome. I bring greetings from King Horick who is pleased to remember the loyalty and honour of your hall. I am neither a diplomat nor courtier so therefore will not waste your time on longwinded and inadequate flattery.” Approving noises filled the pause as he continued. “I will get straight to the point, your loyalty and strength are required once more. It has come to the King’s attention that several lords to the north have banded together and wish to make themselves a kingdom of their own. Naturally, this is not acceptable and threatens the peace that reigns now after so many years of war and unrest. We are here to ask you and your men to join with King Horick and stamp out this rebellion. What say you Jarl Geir?”

  All eyes turned to the Geir as Sarah wondered if he would decline but then remembering Astrid’s words knew that it was a foregone conclusion. In his younger days the Geir had also been on raids and after a fashion (i.e. the spilling of a lot of blood) had become the captain of his own ship and crew. Eventually, he had decided that there was no point in pushing his luck and had returned to the place of his birth a rich man. His crew, give or take a few, had also decided to accompany him home, so great was their respect and loyalty to him.

  Once home, by stint of having a number of well-armed men with him, he was declared Jarl. He built his hall and set about making the steading prosperous. The people were, by and large, happy with the new arrangements; the warriors provided protection and when needed extra manpower. Anyway this was the story that was told, along with many others, about Geirs bravery and steadfastness.

  The Jarl picked up his drinking horn, filled it, turned to the men in the hall, raised his arm and declared “For the King.” The men as one raised their arms in salute “Omm” and with that the decision was made.

  That night Geir held a feast in honour of his distinguished guests. A pig which was being fattened for winter was slaughtered and roasted on the large spit above the fire. The Kings men had brought several flagons of fine wine from the south. Songs and stories were told of great heroes and battles where cunning and bravery won the day, as an ever increasing amount of wine, and then ale, was consumed. Sarah had the task of serving the Kings men, a job that she was most capable of doing. At one point she needed to refill the jug of ale from the barrel at the end of the hall, but as she walked past the last table she felt hands grab at her hips and pull her onto a lap. Warm fetid breath filled her ear;

  “Hmm…a bit scrawny but I think I’ve drunk enough not to care” whispered Snorre, spit flicking onto Sarah’s cheek.

  Sarah gave a little yelp and tried to push Snorre away, but he held her fast. The other men at the table chuckled at her attempts to free herself. Swearing under her breath Sarah prepared to shove a ‘scrawny’ elbow into his flabby belly when the voice of the Jarl rang out above the noisy hall.

  “Snorre!” It was all he said, but it was enough. Snorre’s head snapped up, he pushed Sarah away and turned to his cronies, acting as if the incident had never happened. Sarah made a bee line for Astrid who had seen the whole incident.

  “Stay by me now” was all Astrid said. Sarah didn’t need telling twice.

  Astrid gently shook Sarah’s shoulder. Sarah’s eyes flew open. Looking around she noticed that most of the men had left except for those who had simply put their heads down where they sat and were now snoring loudly.

  “Come the drinking is over and even Snorre has returned to his own bed. Harald and Rolf are in my bed, you join them whilst I make my drunken husband comfortable and I will be with you. There will be much to do before the men leave” said Astrid. Smiling sleepily Sarah did as she was bid.

  As it was, it took two further days for the men who were leaving to be provisioned. So on the third morning after the Kings men had arrived, a sombre group of women and children watched silently as the Geir and his band of warriors rowed out of the bay in the snekke. Not as large as some more traditional warships, its small size and narrow hull allowed it greater manoeuvrability and speed.

  Geir’s fame and wealth were a direct result of his ability to use the snekke to great effect during raids. The ship could accommodate up to thirty crew with twenty six oars each manned by either a warrior or those men from the other households who were able to fight. As far as Sarah could tell, Geir was duty bound to the King and in turn the freemen of the steading and surrounds were duty bound to Geir. Duty, honour, valour were values ingrained into Viking society.

  As the ship cleared the headland to the north, they hauled up the sail with its checkerboard pattern, the dragon head clearly visible and standing proud on the horizon. The plan was to meet up with the King and the rest of the army in Roskilde and then onwards north to put down the rebellion, eventually returning home covered in glory.

  Or, die an honourable death with sword in hand. It all sounded a little crazy to Sarah and if truth be told she had a suspicion that a number of the women, including Astrid, thought so too. Not that they would say this out loud, as it would just be a waste of breath.

  Not all the men had left, some were too old or too young, much to the disgust of Rolf and Harald who spent the afternoon in mock sword fights, yelling and ‘dying’ all over the steading. Leif didn’t seem bothered at being left behind, he was happy in the forge, although Hakon was different. Sarah never could figure out what he was thinking as he spent most of his time scowling, especially when she was around. Given what she knew of the people she figured he was unhappy at being left behind.

  Of all the Jarl’s sons only Erik accompanied the warriors, as his father’s shield bearer. Allowing a fourteen year old to go to war was to Sarah’s mind, bordering on insane. This, however, was not her world, something which was now more evident than ever.

  The only able men not to go were Ulf, who had the responsibility of the forge and two of the warriors. They had not been happy to stay behind but Geir was the boss and he had ordered them to reamain, the steading was not to be left completely defenceless. So with great reluctance the two men stayed.

  Sarah couldn’t help but think that this was probably a good thing. Ever since the visit from the volur, she had been haunted by dreams she couldn’t remember but which upon waking left her heart pounding. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen and it wasn’t a good something.

  As she stood on the shore with her arms wrapped around herself, she watched the ship sail into the distance until it was a speck on the horizon. Not until then did she turn and walk back up the path to the hall, unaware that she was also being watched.

  Chapter Five