Joanna Fulford - Surrender to the Viking

* * *

By the time she arrived the ship was nearing the shore. Half-a-dozen armed men watched its arrival. She heard the watchman’s challenge ring out. It was answered at once. Evidently the answer must have been satisfactory because the crew were invited to tie up and come ashore.

Two men vaulted over the gunwale on to the wooden jetty and proceeded to make fast the lines while their comrades prepared to disembark. Although Lara was some fifty yards away she could see that her previous assessment had been correct: this was a warship and her crew armed to the teeth. Their leader appeared to be the individual she had seen before at the steering oar. He had his back to her at present but when he rattled off a series of instructions they were obeyed without question. Even among a group of big men he stood out. He was several inches taller than the rest and, like them, had the powerful athletic frame of the warrior. Moreover, he carried himself with the confidence of one accustomed to command and to being obeyed: a nobleman probably.

Lara was quietly amused. Most men of that class thought they had a right to instant obedience. It was ingrained in the species, like arrogance. As she surveyed the scene, the tall warrior turned around. She had an impression of a clean-shaven face with strong clean lines, framed by a mane of fair hair. He was...distinctive, she conceded. Probably he was well aware of it too.

As though sensing that he was being observed he looked up, his attention moving beyond the landing towards the trees. The questing gaze spotted her and then locked fast. Seconds later the intent expression was replaced by amusement. Lara glanced down and realised that as she was carrying her cloak the sword at her side was plainly visible against the skirt of her gown. The realisation gave her a mental jolt. It was a careless slip and she was annoyed with herself for letting it happen. Mingled with that was indignation that it should be a source of amusement to the stranger. Nevertheless, if he thought she would be disconcerted by it he was mistaken. Lifting her chin she returned his stare and held it for a moment or two. Then, unhurriedly, she turned and walked away.

* * *

Finn remained where he was, his gaze following the girl until she was lost to view among the trees. Her presence there had been both unexpected and arresting as though a curious woodland fey had suddenly appeared to investigate their arrival. The impression was enhanced by flowing brown hair and a gown of forest-green. The fey was fair to look upon but somewhat aloof in her manner. Her expression just now had been a distinct challenge, like the sword she wore at her side. He was amused and intrigued, his curiosity thoroughly roused. Had circumstances been different he’d have investigated further.

‘My lord, will it please you to come with us?’

The watchman’s voice brought Finn back to practicalities. ‘Er, yes, of course.’

Leaving half-a-dozen men with the ship, he and the others followed their escort. It was but a short distance to Jarl Ottar’s hall, an impressive timber dwelling that spoke of the status of its owner. Around it were other buildings: stables, barn, byres, pig sties, workshops and forge. Finn and his men surveyed the steading with appraising eyes.

‘It’s a fine place,’ observed Unnr. ‘Looks like Jarl Ottar’s a wealthy man.’

‘Let’s hope he places a high value on old allegiances,’ said Sturla.

‘We’ll soon find out, won’t we?’

Any doubts they might have entertained were swiftly banished. As soon as they were announced Jarl Ottar came forward at once. He was in his forties and his red hair was faded and streaked with grey. However, his burly form suggested strength and vigour and his blue eyes were keen and shrewd. He smiled at the newcomers and then embraced their leader heartily.

‘Welcome, Finn Egilsson, and welcome to your companions too.’

‘I thank you, my lord.’

‘Your father was a great warrior and a staunch ally. I was proud to call him friend.’

‘He spoke of you too,’ said Finn, ‘and always with the greatest affection and respect.’

‘You have the look of him.’

‘My brother, Leif, also.’

‘When I heard of your father’s death it was with deep sorrow.’ Ottar shook his head. ‘There weren’t many like him. Nevertheless, it’s good to see one of his sons in my hall.’ He shouted for the servants to fetch ale and food. ‘When you have refreshed yourselves you can tell me what brings you here.’

* * *

When Lara returned the first person she saw was Alrik. He was two years her senior and he was considerably taller. Like her he had the deep red hair that was a family trait. His blue eyes held a gleam of amusement and were looking pointedly at the cloak she was holding closed over her gown.

‘Been practising again, eh?’ He gave her a conspiratorial wink. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell.’

‘I know.’ She glanced round to make sure they were out of earshot. ‘I need to go and put the sword away. In the meantime we have visitors.’

‘I thought I heard the horn sound.’

‘A vessel has just arrived at the landing.’

‘A trader?’

‘A warship.’

He frowned. ‘How many men?’

‘I counted twenty.’

‘Interesting.’

‘Don’t you want to find out why they’re here?’

He grinned. ‘You mean you want to find out why they’re here.’

‘All right, I admit I’m curious. Are you going to pretend you aren’t?’

‘No, I won’t pretend that.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Go and hide your guilty secret. I’ll go to the hall.’

With that he hurried off. Lara made her way back to the bower. The place was empty now so she removed her cloak and unbuckled the sword belt before laying the weapon carefully back in the bottom of her chest and replacing the clothing on top. No one would suspect its presence there. Having done that, she straightened her rumpled gown and brushed a few tendrils of hair off her face. Then she went to find out what was toward.

By the time she reached the hall the place was bustling with servants carrying platters of food and jugs of ale. Her brother and father were deep in conversation with the guests. The servants had matters well in hand so she was able to stay in the background and listen.

* * *

Finn and his men took the edge off their hunger with bread and cold meat washed down by several cups of ale. Ottar made no attempt to discuss business until they had eaten. Then he made a gesture for the servants to replenish the cups and looked at his guests.

‘Now, will you not tell me why we have the honour of your company?’

‘It is not pleasure only that brings us here,’ said Finn then, ‘but rather the political turmoil in Vingulmark. The royal house did not look kindly on their defeat at Eid.’

Ottar regarded him intently. ‘You were there?’

‘Leif and I fought for Halfdan Svarti. So too did our cousin Erik and all the men you see before you. The fighting was fierce but at the end of it King Gandalf’s army was routed. Heysing and Helsing were slain. Only Prince Hakke survived.’

‘Better if it had been the other way around,’ said Ottar. ‘I always thought him the most dangerous of Gandalf’s sons.’

‘There’s many would agree. Hakke is nothing if not vengeful. His next act was to carry off Halfdan’s intended bride, Lady Ragnhild, thinking to wed her by force. Fortunately we prevented it and rescued the lady, but, in the confusion, Hakke managed to escape us.’

‘That was ill luck.’

‘Ill luck indeed. He bided his time until he could have his revenge. It was to take the form of a hall burning. My brother’s hall to be precise.’

‘That is treachery of a high order.’