Viking Voices (2 page)

We pull right back to the river bank and once there we receive some momentary relief, those already on the boats are hurling spears over our heads, and for a few minutes the attackers hold back, startled by this new barrage. We only need a few minutes and are already bounding through the shallow water and hurling ourselves over the sides of the drakken boats, the long narrow boats we use for raiding. We can each only look after ourselves now, no time to look after anyone else. We must all get onboard as best we can since this is the most dangerous phase of the whole battle for all of us. Many do get on the boats, but some fall in the shallow water where they must recover quickly or fall prey to the Irskrs.

We scramble as hard as we can, and once in the boat we each take an oar and as soon as there are thirty men sitting in position onboard we pull away, though a few more desperate men are clambering over the side even while we are moving off. We are pulling as hard as we can, as though we are rowing for our very lives, which of course, we are! Thank goodness the ebb tide is still flowing and helping us, although it is just a little slower than before. As we are in the hands of a skilled helmsman we are soon moving quickly and consistently towards the open sea, and soon the kick of the first waves hits us.

Once on the water and away from land we are out of immediate danger. So after the terrible ordeal we are beyond the reach of our enemies. I have survived my first battle but I have lost everything that I and my family ever owned, including our home and our home land! As yet I have no news of any of my family, but I know that all of them are at great risk, and Kjartan is surely lost.

As we move out of the river and into the bay I can see there are many other boats around us that pitch and sway under the impact of the increasing waves as we move into open sea. The murky brown water is swirling and turbulent, lots of white caps on the many waves around us, yet I am hardly even aware of the movement of the boat, and the consequent discomfort. I need to keep rowing, partly to keep the boat moving and partly to numb my mind. I have great troubles to occupy my thoughts, but I want to shut them out if I can. I can see yet more boats both ahead and behind us, in a steady stream moving from the defeated fortress mostly going towards Dalkey Island.

Most people seem to know that is the place to gather, though I see others are heading north across the bay. I have taken this course once before, as I assisted Ragnald to carry a large and very heavy wooden chest filled with leather bags full of silver. We took it across the bay to Dalkey Island and buried it there for safekeeping.

Perhaps I am not the only one, who helped to move goods away to safety on that island or maybe another island, and perhaps Ragnald was not alone in foreseeing that this disastrous day was coming. The prospect of this tragedy was certainly extremely well signalled in the days leading up to the attack on our beloved town.

Once on the island we pull the boat on the beach as high as we can, to be above the reach of the next tide, and then rush to meet our comrades. Everyone is frightened and anxious to know who has survived and who has not. After searching frantically for what seems like an eternity among the women who got here earlier I finally find Aud, and hug her close, collapsing in tears into her arms. We are both in tears, perhaps of joy, perhaps of relief but probably mostly of pure hysteria. She is still with her mother Grunhilde and my mother Edda, having been with them all the way on the boat, so they are all safe. There is no sign of my father Erik, my brother Kjartan or of Aud's father Gerd. Naturally we fear the worst for them, so many men have died, and there will be little hope of seeing them again if they do not turn up here very soon.

The sun is above us now, it is just midday. Only half the day gone and already many of our warriors have died, half my family missing and the work of four or five generations lost.

There is surprisingly plenty of good quality food and drink already prepared and cooked as though someone is expecting us to arrive here in such numbers. Although it seems very odd to have good food available in these large quantities, in these circumstances we are glad of that food since we are all very emotional and completely exhausted. There is also the opportunity to wash away the stains of blood from our garments and take away the physical stain of that defeat, though the hurt and humiliation that go with it will not go away. It will be necessary to fight again and to avenge this day. Nothing we can ever do will bring back the lives of those that have died in the battle.

Although it is just noon I am exhausted and fall asleep in Aud's arms, taking comfort from being with her here. It is a shallow, unhappy sleep though and full of the sight, taste and smells of blood and death and is dominated by dark terrifying thoughts. So it is not long before I am awake again, shaking uncontrollably with fear and weeping bitterly for the relatives and friends I have seen brutally slaughtered in front of my eyes. I am horribly aware of my own death having passed so very close by me and I still tremble with fright. Although I have awoken from my sleep the terrible feeling of horror, weariness and misery will not go away from me. We are in desperate straits and facing a very uncertain future in a strange place.

Aud comforts me and tries to get me to talk about it, saying that it will help me cope with the trauma and grief. I cannot cope with talking about it though, as even thinking of it brings the horror back. Not only can I not talk of what has happened but I will never talk about it again. It is sealed away in a compartment of my memory that I will never want to access again. Occasionally it will visit me at nights in the months and years to come, disturbing my sleep and waking me up in a hot sweat, trembling and shaking. It is one of the few things that I cannot and will not share willingly even with my wife, and even less with any other human being. In fact, Aud will become very familiar with the mood created by these disturbed dreams but eventually learn to accept it sympathetically and without question.

By evening it is clear that all of those who are coming are already here, and our last hopes of seeing our men folk ever again are finally extinguished. They must have perished in the battle, and so we will never see them again. My mother and Aud's mother are inconsolable; their grief and the grief of so many other women are all around us, and it is heart breaking to see and even worse to hear.

Now in the midst of this anguish we are called by King Ivarr to assemble for the Althing, an assembly which all free men can attend but obviously not the slaves or women. We are a little surprised to see King Ivarr here in all his majesty and great clothes, brilliantly coloured as befits his rank but perhaps not the situation. Given our terrible circumstances this seems to be out of place, and all of us immediately become fully aware that he has been absent during the battle. Because of that no one is happy with him, and there is a black mood developing among the defeated warriors. They are clearly starting to look for someone to blame. Ivarr's judgement and timing in calling the Althing this evening could hardly be worse for his own safety; he is the natural target of all that blame.

He takes the space at the centre and speaks loudly to us, calling on all of us to respect his kingship over us and asking for credit for having planned our withdrawal in the face of an overwhelming force, pointing out that Dalkey Island was prepared for us. We have food for the whole community for several weeks thanks to his efforts and foresight, and have kept many of the riches and resources of the city. We are now safe away from the threat of our enemies and being on Dalkey will gain us time and will therefore allow us to decide on where we go next and to go there in good order. Most of our boats have also been saved, and will allow us to continue to move and fight in the Viking manner. He calls on us to know the value of unity, and therefore to stay together and remain strong as one community under his leadership. He says that he alone offers the opportunity to stay united under one king, as one group. We should resist the temptation to disperse, or going away with any other leader, as by staying as one people we can best hope to use our strength to restore our fortunes by re-organising to regain our lost city and its lands.

We all expect that it will be Ragnald who will stride forward to respond and express what we are all thinking, and right on cue he does so. Ragnald is always easy to predict, he has little guile and no subtlety, but he certainly knows how to convey anger and indignation very well. It reflects the mood of the gathered warriors perfectly.

I admire Ragnald, and think him the strongest of the Jarls. Like all of them he is a tall, young, athletic and muscular man, well-skilled in fighting and the arts of war. More than most he is decisive and aggressive, if a little inclined to be impulsive and maybe even hot-headed at times. Despite his youth he is very proud and confident, he holds himself superior to the others and with good reason. He has royal blood linking him to the great King Ivarr, and is always decisive and often wise. Although he also has that hot streak which can cloud his judgement he knows this weakness and tries to restrain his impulses and to listen to his counsellors.

He wears a full beard and has a full head of black hair. His most prominent features though are his lively piercing blue eyes, always darting here and there. He seems to observe everything, but maybe this is an outside sign of the internal strife that he is suffering. Certainly it is a sign of the continuous energy that sings through his veins. I never met anyone with greater vigour. When he is relaxed it asserts itself in great good humour, and he is wonderful company and it is a pleasure to drink with him and his comrades in the evening. There is always a lot of banter and laughter around him.

When the black mood settles on him though, he is the most difficult and argumentative individual. In that mood he is very dangerous as he believes in settling all quarrels with violence. No doubt he believes that the strongest people deserve to dominate and to have whatever they desire. All Norse people know that is the will of the gods.

When he leads a raid he is always at the front, in the most dangerous place, taking risks with his own life. He shows great respect for his fellow warriors. And many times he has turned back, at the risk of his own life, to assist others who got into danger. He is always true to the vows we warriors take to aid and support each other. No warrior should turn away in a fight and Ragnald never does. He is true and fair and has a warrior's temperament, so no one gets in his way. We have seen him slice men open with a single stroke of his longsword during raids, and he has brutally split open many skulls. Although he is true to his own loyal warriors he can also be savage to anyone who betrays him. His vengeance is devastating and we have heard stories of his rages and of him strangling with his bare hands those who turned against him. None of us has ever seen that happen but no one doubts that the stories are true.

His record speaks for itself though; he is careful and calculating in his adventures. He does not carry out raids unless he is sure of their success, unlike the unfortunate Sigfrid, who recently disappeared. He only fights those battles which he is confident he will win. As a result of that all of us that follow him are all still alive, but naturally he has carried out very few raids in the past few weeks.

Ragnald speaks boldly and confidently, taking centre stage, like one who has complete authority and the right to command the attention of every one. The role of a Viking king, he says, is not to plan and organise a defeat, it is to fight and lead the battle to gain victory. Why was all this effort and thinking put into getting away from our enemy? This is not the warrior way since we do not want to avoid battles; we want to win the battles. Most important of all, why was Ivarr our king and so called leader not there, in his rightful place at the front of the battle, to lead us and to take his chance, make his reputation as a hero and be at the front of the fighting? It is clear that he has devoted his efforts to getting himself, his family and immediate personal guard away when everyone else was left to take their chance with the battle. This is rank cowardice, unworthy of any king, and especially not a Norse king! He turns to confront Ivarr and spits on the floor in front of him, a gesture of open contempt.

Ivarr knows that he is being confronted and his authority challenged. He reacts like a cornered rat and turns angrily and aggressively on Ragnald, hitting him and rebuking him for his insolence to a king. Ragnald sways away under the blow and then straightens up to look Ivarr directly in the eye, a black angry look, an unspoken challenge to fight.

Both men draw their swords and are circling each other, making desperate and dangerous moves and for each they could easily be fatal moves. Ivarr glances towards his huskarls, his personally selected warriors, hoping for assistance, but they can sense that the mood of the community is against them. None of them take a step forward to protect their king. Now he must protect his own honour alone in single combat, and he has, at least in theory, an equal chance in a fight with Ragnald.

These two are immediately plunged into an aggressive combat to the death, each believing that the winner will be the ruler of this reduced community, and knowing that the winner will take all. We must see who it is that Tyr, the one-handed god of those involved in single combat, will favour.

These are both muscular, large men who have trained as warriors all their lives, but Ragnald is clearly the younger and more athletic and he is also expected to be the more determined and aggressive. Sure enough he is the aggressor; it is in his nature to attack remorselessly. First he forces Ivarr back and the king must know that this is the defining moment of his life. He must win this fight, and he must kill Ragnald to retain his crown or he will certainly be killed himself. He gains huge energy from his desperation too, and finally shows the aggression and determination that we always wanted from him, hitting out at Ragnald and striking the side of his head. Surprised by this sudden and unexpected discovery of courage and fortitude by someone who he has always thought of as a coward and a weakling, Ragnald recoils, stumbles and takes a faltering step backwards.