Chapter Sixteen
Mathios was efficient, Nyle would grant him that. At their jarl’s instructions the Vikings were quick to assemble the bodies of the dead Norsemen and dig a grave large enough to accommodate them all. He and Bowdyn had been adamant that the villagers should not be left to clear up the carnage as his mother and sister had been. They would leave this place as they found it, or as close to that as they could. Their intervention had been speedy enough to prevent major damage to the huddled collection of dwellings and barns, and the livestock were untouched. The village would not go short of food this winter, at least not as a result of this raid.
Seven villagers had perished in the initial attack, including Harold, the son of Brona who even now continued to sob uncontrollably. Other women from the village sought to console her but thus far to no avail. Nyle cursed the senseless loss of life but took consolation in the final outcome. The savage, Leidolf, was dead. His brothers too. The three now lay in an unmarked grave, soon to be forgotten by all but those whose lives they had blighted.
Ever pragmatic, Nyle could also see that some good had come of the ordeal Leidolf had visited upon them with his greed and his cruelty. He and Bowdyn had discovered new horizons, new aspirations. Their world had expanded beyond the confines of the farm where they grew up. They enjoyed freedom now and understood the true meaning of it. And they had Kristin, the woman they both loved and needed in their lives.
Merewyn, too, had found happiness in the depths of her despair. She now had a husband who adored her, two strapping stepsons and a baby of her own. She had gained a friend in Rowena, and in Kristin she had discovered the sister she had always longed for. Then there was Connell, born out of the wreckage but a joy to all of those who loved him.
Nyle flattened his lips, reflecting for a moment that one of those now lying beneath the soil might have sired his half-brother, but that was a matter of inconsequential detail. Arne, the man who had adopted Connell as his own, he was the boy’s father now. And Arne had sailed with them to avenge the wrong done to their family. Even Deva had come out of the ordeal well enough, bride to a wealthy trader, her newly discovered thirst for travel well satisfied.
Their lives had taken an unexpected and unwelcome turn. They had known pain and loss and grief, the terror and bitterness of slavery. People they loved had been taken, torn from them by cruel and barbaric men. But those who survived were resilient, courageous individuals who had all forged a new course for themselves. They had seized opportunities, learned to forgive where that was merited and to seek vengeance where forgiveness was not possible. Life continued. The cycle of seasons rolled on unabated. The gods, of whatever persuasion, continued to smile down upon those who toiled and fought to survive. They all deserved the solace they had found, but the greatest challenge of all still lay before them.
It was right, though. Their course was set.
Bowdyn approached, Mathios too. “Are we ready to leave?” Nyle asked.
His brother nodded, Bowdyn’s expression grim. “Aye, we are. The elders in the village have opted to keep the prisoners here. They will be made to work in the fields, hew logs, carry rocks for building. They face a harsh life, but it is one they deserve and better than the alternative.”
“Good enough,” agreed Nyle. “Where is Torsteinn?”
“Gone back to the dragon ships already,” replied Mathios. “He is waiting for us at the beach, eager to leave these shores. It is time we joined him. We have a lengthy voyage before us.”
Nyle nodded and the three fell in step, following the last of their men back to the water’s edge where their own six longships awaited, as well as the three now abandoned by Leidolf’s warriors who had either perished, fled, or would be remaining in the village. Men from Agnartved would sail in them now.
“Quite the fleet,” observed Nyle. “We will present a terrifying sight.”
“Just as well,” agreed Mathios. “We would not wish to be attacked at sea, not on this voyage.”
“Are they here yet?” Nyle shaded his eyes to scan the horizon.
“Kristin knows to remain out of sight until she sees our signal that tells her all is well, and it is safe to approach. The beacon will be lit soon…” He turned to gaze up at the towering peaks behind them. “Yes. See? There.” He pointed to the brow of the closest hill where wisps of smoke began to curl from the summit. “Olav has lit the fire to summon them in.”
In a matter of moments, the remaining Norsemen and the two Celts had waded out to their ships and clambered aboard. As quickly as they had swooped in to land on this shore they were away, gliding out toward the open sea. Just one longship remained on the beach to await Olav and those who had accompanied him up the hillside, but that vessel would soon follow.
No longer required to conceal himself, Nyle stood at the prow of the ship to scan the glittering waves. Bowdyn, too, peered into the late afternoon sun, seeking out their first glimpse.
“There.” Nyle spotted the tiny specks on the horizon. They grew before his eyes, more and more of them until he counted thirteen in all, Torsteinn’s twelve knarrs and the one jointly owned by himself, his brother, and Kristin. He could not yet see her but knew she would be at the bow of their ship, looking out for him and his brother.
The dragon ships picked up speed as the wind whipped up. They skimmed the waves, closing the distance between them and the knarrs that had followed them out of Agnartved and trailed the Viking warships as they travelled south. It had been Kristin’s task to lead that convoy, a few hours behind them, then to wait out at sea until she spotted their agreed-upon signal. She had played her part well.
He could see her now, her blue tunic just visible beneath the cloak that flapped about her shoulders. She stood tall, proud, utterly lovely at the prow of their vessel. Something twisted within him at the sight of her. Nyle glanced over to where Bowdyn hailed from another ship a few yards away and he saw the same pride and devotion in his twin’s grinning expression.
There was relief, too. Nyle shared it. They had done what they set out to accomplish. Their plan had worked. Now it was all coming together, and they were about to embark on the final part of their journey.
Mathios was beside him, also waving. Merewyn stood next to Kristin, Ronat in her arms. Galin and Petrus, Mathios’ two young sons from his earlier marriage stood beside their stepmother. Rowena held Petrus’ small hand. Both boys were overjoyed to catch sight of their father.
Nyle knew that Sigrunn, wife to Arne and adoptive mother to his own half-brother, Connell, would be aboard one of the vessels though he could not yet see her. Connell would be there too, as would all the other children from their settlement. Almost no family had opted to remain behind.
“Do you regret leaving Agnartved?”
Mathios did not answer at once and Nyle wondered if perhaps they had asked too much of him. His home, his people, the land he loved—it was a high price to pay for loyalty to his kin.
“No, not especially. Land is much the same wherever you go, though some is more fertile I daresay. We can grow crops, raise our livestock, and rebuild our longhouses anywhere. We Vikings are seafarers, explorers, it is in our blood to seek out the new.”
“Even so, it was a huge sacrifice to make. For us. By turning on Leidolf you made yourself an outcast among your own people, unable to ever return to your native land.”
Mathios shrugged. “I know that, and I accepted the consequences of my actions. You are my people. You and those who followed us.”
Nyle knew that Mathios had not acted in haste, nor had he taken his decision lightly. All those who followed had chosen to do so. Despite that, his gratitude and admiration for the people he had once hated caused his voice to thicken when he spoke. “This place Torsteinn speaks of, this island he says we could make our new home, have you been there?”
Mathios shook his head. “I have travelled as far south as Calais, that is all. This place where the seas are warm and the land lush with fruit, where the sun shines and there is no snow, all of this is new to me, but I trust Torsteinn. If he says it will suit us I will not argue. I look forward to seeing it.”
“I shall not miss the cold, that is for sure.” Nyle hugged his cloak more closely about him. “It will be strange, this new land of ours.”
“Maybe, but we shall survive if we are set upon it. You should know that, better than any of us.”
“I do. It was a brave decision you made, to uproot your entire family, almost all at Agnartved, and have them all come with us.” By now the knarrs were close enough for them to see the rest of the ‘cargo’ crammed into the sturdy vessels. Women and children huddled together, waving and shouting as they caught sight of their menfolk in the dragon ships. They perched upon cases of supplies, barrels of water, bales of wool. They had brought enough with them to see them through their journey and sustain them until they could harvest their first crops. Meanwhile, the Viking settlers would fish and hunt and gather what they might when they had to put into port.
The knarrs and longships met, greetings were exchanged, kisses blown. Kristin’s laughter rang across the waves and Nyle contemplated diving into the choppy waves to swim over to her.
“Do not be a fool, man. That water is colder than it looks.” Mathios grimaced at him as he helped another warrior to haul on the sail and set their southerly course.
Nyle had no reason to doubt Mathios’ counsel, but his mind was made up when Bowdyn dived off the side of his longship and started to swim through the roiling waves. Merewyn tossed a rope over the side and Bowdyn was gaining on it with every stroke.
Well, if he can do it…
Nyle hurled himself into the water, gasped as the truth of Mathios’ words snatched the breath from his lungs, then he started to swim.