Varangian (Aelfraed) (2 page)

As we neared the dais he stood and came down, grinning like a drunken bear. “Aelfraed! I wondered how long it would take for you to come.
  Have you come to kill me then boy?”

Those around him stiffened and their hands went to their daggers.
  Sweyn just held up his hand.  “I suppose I should but if I had wanted you dead then I would not have left Death Bringer at the door.”

He suddenly laughed and then wrapped his arms around me.
  “By the Gods but it is good to have a man here again.” He turned to the others.  “Do you see my sons, this is a real warrior?  He fears neither me nor death.  You would do well to be like him.” He pointed at them. “Harald you know, the surly one with the sneer is Canute named for his grandfather. The fat bear is Ole; the one who looks as though he would slit your throat if you looked at him the wrong way is Sweyn, my eldest and the weedy, pale one who looks like the runt of the litter is Eric.” His honesty with his sons spoke volumes; there was no love lost here. He leaned in to speak into my ear, “We gave him a warrior name but he is more of a poet and singer than a warrior. And where is the archer, Branton, the king killer? Do not tell me the Bastard managed to kill him too?”

I too laughed, “No he still lives although he has found out that crossbow bolts hurt as much as arrows.
  He stayed in England with his brother to annoy the Normans.”

“Good.
  Your men were all good warriors.  And the others?”

“All dead! We are the last of the Hooded Men.”

“Come sit and drink.” We sat at the huge table and were served drinking horns with foamy ale.  “Here’s a toast to the band of men who made William’s life so hard.” He looked at his sons.  “If you want to make money quickly then take these two back to England for William will pay a Prince’s ransom.”

I did not know if he was joking or if he meant it.
  You never knew with Sweyn. I just laughed it off. “I am not sure the tight bastard would have paid.” I looked Sweyn in the eyes, “It seems to me he paid quite a lot to get rid of you, your majesty.”

There was a sudden silence and I could see the anger on the faces of Canute, Sweyn and Harold, the one called Eric just smiled. “Aye well I did charge him a mighty price to be rid of me.” He suddenly looked serious, “Now, enough of these barbed blades Aelfraed or I shall become angry.
  Tell me why you came here, apart from the fact that England is too hot for you at the moment.”

All the while we had been talking Ridley had kept his hand on his dagger. I leaned over to pat his hand and he relaxed. “We wish to go to Constantinople, the place you call Miklagård, and I remembered you said once that you were in our debt, for what we did for you at Jorvik.
  I come to claim that debt.”

I think I saw him relax a little.
  He must have thought that our price would be higher. “It is a long and dangerous road to Byzantium but I am a man of my word and I will do all I can to aid you. Tomorrow I will get my people to make the arrangements but tonight we feast and celebrate our victory over the Normans at Jorvik. “

The feast passed in a blur of too much food and too much beer. The other warriors were keen to hear my stories of my combats with the Normans and the Welsh.
  Many had heard of Ridley’s heroics at Jorvik and he was forced to show his scars off. None could believe that he had survived such wounds.  Eric, sat wrapt listening to the stories.  He had a quick mind for he quickly composed a song about Ridley at the battle of Jorvik which moved Ridley to tears.  That was the last conscious thing I heard for I passed out soon after.  When I awoke it was with a mouth which felt as though I had been chewing sawdust. I staggered to my feet in the huge hall filled with sweating foetid bodies and made my way to the doors.  It was daylight and the shock of the cold and the sun soon sobered me up. I went to the water butt and poured a bucket of it over my head. The town was busily going about its business and I stood for a while watching something I had not seen in England for years, peace, with ordinary people able to go about their business freely.  Would England ever enjoy such peace again?

It was mid morning before the hall was totally awake and I felt better for having eaten something.
  Sweyn was as good as his word and, by the time Ridley had, once more, joined the land of the living he had managed to make arrangements for us.  “There is a ship leaving for Uppsala at the end of the week.  You will then take ship from there.  There is a merchant, Bjorn of Gotland with whom I have had dealings.  For a small fee he will take you to Miklagård.”

He smiled as though he had done us the biggest favour in the world when, in reality, he had just given us one short voyage on a ship and provided an introduction to a merchant.
  “Thank you, King Sweyn, for your help. I wonder however if I could press you to find us a servant who can speak languages for we will be travelling through strange lands.”

He frowned, “Men with languages do not come cheap my English friend but I shall look for one.
  Hopefully I can find such a one before you sail.”

Suddenly a shrill Danish voice piped up.
  “I will go with them father.”

The waiflike Eric stepped forwards.
  He was hardly the sort of servant I had expected. He was the son of a king and looked to have no strength.  How could he possibly help us?  I looked at Ridley and saw that he shared my views. The King however, looked delighted, as though the solution had been sent by Thor himself.  “Excellent suggestion, my son.  Does he meet with your approval Lord Aelfraed?”

The sardonic smile playing on his lips told me that this was deliberate; he had put me between a rock and hard place.
  If I said no then I would be insulting the royal family.  “Of course it does your majesty but it would then require me to ask if you had a servant we could employ for we have much gear and I do not think that the son of a king should have to carry our bags.” I gave Sweyn back the smile he had given me and the slight nod of his head showed me that he understood my ploy.

“Of course we have many such men and he could act as bodyguard for my son. “ He waved over his steward and said something.
  “And now I will leave you two to become acquainted with Eric while we conduct the business of the court.”

With that we were dismissed. Ridley looked as disenchanted as I did; I knew I was prejudging the boy but I could not see how he would be of use to us.
  Had we been staying in Danish waters then his royal connection might have been of some use but we were going much further east.  I put on my ‘new man’ smile as Osbert used to call it; the smile I used when welcoming volunteers to my band.  “Well Eric.  Are you sure you want to do this? I suspect the road will be hard.”

He had an eager, keen face and was always an open boy.
  His smile lit up his face, “Oh yes Lord Aelfraed.  I have always wanted to travel and…” he glanced nervously over to his father.

I saw the look.
  “Come, let us take the air, for it is stuffy in here and I would walk.”

It was relief and something else I saw on the boy’s face. Ridley grumbled. “I’ll bet it is cold out there.”

“Tell me Eric, what you know of the lands to the east and the peoples there.”

He became animated, “I have never been there but I have heard many stories.
  The first peoples are like us but are Rus.  Later we pass through the Khazar Khanate where the Mongols live.”

Ridley looked interested, “The Mongols?”

“They are a group of fierce tribes who ride fast ponies and use bows which can shoot great distances.  They have no king, as we do but they fight under chiefs and great warriors.  And then we reach Byzantium.”

“How old are you Eric?”

“I have seen sixteen summers, my lord.”

“I think that we can dispense with the ‘my lord’, as I have lost my land and I am an outlaw.
  Besides aren’t you a Prince?”

He shook his head happily, “No, I am a bastard.”

He said it so cheerfully that I laughed aloud.  “Well you are in good company then for so am I. Tell me Eric, why is your father so keen to send you off with us.” I held my hand up.  “What you should know about me is that I prefer plain words and the truth.  We will survive this journey a little happier if you remember that. I saw something in your father’s eyes which told me that he wanted you away from court.”

“That is true.
  He wants me away for I embarrass him.  I am not a warrior.  I never have been one.  I do not like the fighting and the violence.”

I shook my head, “So you would travel with two strangers through, by your own admission, extremely hostile lands to serve two warriors who will fight for an Eastern Emperor.
  How does that sound to you, Ridley?”

“It does not sound right Aelfraed.
  Perhaps he is a spy?”

Eric’s face filled with colour and he shook his head violently.
  I could see his eyes were filled with terror; was it the terror of being left behind?

“You are right and there will be danger but I have heard that Byzantium is a magical place with many books and many other cultures.
  True, I serve two warriors but when we reach our journey’s end I will be safe within Byzantium’s walls and, when you are away fighting, then I will order your house and be able to study. The journey is the risky part but I am willing to endure that to escape my prison and reach my own heaven and my own journey’s end.”

He sounded honest but I knew that there was something else he was not telling me. However, he was being as open as he could be bearing in mind he had just met us.
  I suspected this was
wyrd
again.  We had needed a translator, Cnut had told us that.  The fact that he did not fit the picture we had of him was our fault not his. “Well, Eric son of Sweyn, welcome to our little group.  I just hope that you father picks us a strong servant for our bags are heavy and, from what we have heard, we need to carry our boats across parts of the journey.”

He eagerly nodded, “Aye my lord, the portages.”

“I would ask your father but can you tell us what we would need for the journey?”

He shook his head, “I do not yet know.
  But I will find out for you.”

“Good.
  Had you lied to me and pretended that you knew I should have been unhappy.  Always speak the truth and be honest and we will get on.”

We wandered around the town with Eric chattering away and telling us many stories about the people and the buildings. We discovered that his mother had been a slave from the far south which explained his slight frame and his slightly darker appearance.
  He was the only one of Eric’s sons who had black hair and that, it emerged, had caused him to be beaten and bullied by his siblings.  When he told us that Ridley and I exchanged a glance for we both knew that was my story too.  The boy was very gentle.  His voice was soft and it did not seem to suit the harsh words of the Danish language. He told us that he had escaped the warrior training by hiding in the local church where the priest, who had been a Saxon captured by the Danes, there taught him to read and to speak other languages. The more he spoke the more we understood why Sweyn had taken the chance to be rid of this illegitimate child who would never stand in a shield wall and would never fight for his inheritance. I did not think this to be a malicious act from Sweyn, rather the opposite, for he was doing the best he could for his son, as I had when I had left my son with the Earl of Fife, a man who might make a better fist of being a father than I had.

By the time we returned to the warrior hall, it was late afternoon and the King’s business had been settled.
  His steward, Bjorn, greeted us at the door.  “His majesty has found a servant for you.  Come with me.”

He led us to the thrall quarters.
  Outside the wooden hall were some warriors who were lounging and throwing knives into the empty wooden water butt.  To one side sat a huge man.  His broad back was to us but I could see that he was powerful.  Bjorn was heading towards him and I began to assess this servant the king had provided.  It seemed in direct contrast to Eric who seemed more like an aelfe than a man.

Bjorn shouted over, “Ragnar!”

When he turned around I saw that he had suffered in some battle or other. His scarred face looked as though someone had tried to hack the skin from his body.  Where his right eye should have been was a patch but the deep gouge above and below showed where the blow had been struck. There was a piece of his nose missing and another savage looking scar running across his throat.  He favoured his right leg slightly and I saw that he had two fingers missing from his left hand.

Eric translated Bjorn’s words as he spoke. “Ragnar, the king has ordered you to serve his son and these Saxons as their servant. Is that good?”

Ragnar looked suspiciously at the three of us and then wandered closely.  He stared at me and then his face lit into a grin which showed black holes where many of his teeth should have been.  He nodded vigorously.

“Get your gear from the thrall hall and return here.” Bjorn turned to us. “Ragnar was a great warrior and served the King’s
son-in-law, Gottschalk.  He received these wounds over ten years ago defending the banner.” He looked sad. “He was left here when the Prince returned to his homeland and Ragnar has lived here in the hall of the thralls with nought to do. He lost the ability to speak when he was wounded and his world is now a silent one.” His eyes pleaded with me as he spoke.  “Lord Aelfraed, you are a warrior and the king believes that Ragnar can still have honour in his life.  He cannot stand in a shield wall but what else is there for a warrior?”