Chapter Fifteen
Anger still boiled. Hatred, loathing, and an unquenchable thirst for vengeance seethed within his breast. Bowdyn curled his fists and brought them down hard on the table. He would not rest until he was avenged. Not a day would pass from now on, as long as that evil butcher drew breath, that he, Bowdyn of Cynwrig, would not lust for Leidolf’s death. He owed it to his parents, to all of those whose lives were wrecked that day and on every other day that Nordic raiders had burned and pillaged and raped. He met his brother’s gaze. “Will you help me?”
Nyle’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. He did not hesitate. “Aye. I will.”
By the door, Merewyn was weeping. Kristin went to comfort her, guided her forward to join her brothers. The two women came to sit at the table, Mathios too. He took his wife in his arms.
“We will understand if you feel we should leave,” Bowdyn began.
Mathios just shook his head. “Let there be no talk of leaving.” His gaze hardened. “You are quite certain of this? There can be no mistake?”
“No. There is no mistake.”
Mathios turned his attention to Nyle. “Do you agree? Was Leidolf the man who attacked your farm?”
Nyle shook his head. “I do not know. It is all something of a blur. I recall that we were running from the meadow where Bowdyn, our father, and I had been working. We saw the Vikings coming and charged to defend our home, our family. We were too late. I spotted Deva, who was my affianced bride at that time, being pursued by a gang of Vikings and I ran to her aid. I did not see those who attacked the farm. I was knocked senseless in the fighting and did not come around until I was on a boat, already at sea. I would probably recognise the Vikings who guarded us if I saw them again, but Leidolf was not among those.”
“I know what I saw. I shall never forget.” The memory of that day was engraved upon his heart. Bowdyn was as certain of what he had seen, who he had seen, as he was of his own name.
“Our father,” Merewyn sobbed against Mathios’ tunic. “I found him, after. I had to bury him. Those brutes, they were savages, merciless. It was as though they enjoyed their sport that day. Our father was an elderly man, no match for them, yet they… they…”
Mathios kissed her hair and held her against his chest. “I know. I understand. It will be all right, we shall deal with this.”
Bowdyn appreciated the sentiment but knew he could not expect Mathios to avenge his dead parents. He liked his brother-in-law, but at heart, Mathios was a Viking too. He had led raids just like the one on Cynwrig so why would he wish to aid them now? No, this was his responsibility. His and Nyle’s.
Bowdyn made to stand up. “He is still here, at Agnartved. I shall go finish what I started. Are you with me, brother?”
“I am.” Nyle got to his feet also.
Kristin flung herself into Bowdyn’s arms. “Please, do not do this. You will be killed, both of you. How would I live with you both gone? I could not bear it.”
Bowdyn was torn, but his path lay clear before him. He loved her. He had promised, Nyle too, to care for her, to protect her. But how could he walk away from this? It was his duty, his right, his obligation.
“Sweetheart, I am sorry. We are sorry, but we must do this. We have no choice.”
“I know. I know that, and I agree that Leidolf deserves to die for what he did. But what if you fail, and perish yourselves in the attempt?”
“That is a risk we must take, little Viking.” Nyle stroked her cheek. “We will do this, and we will come back to you. If we can.”
“I love you. I cannot bear to lose you, either of you. Please… please…”
Bowdyn kissed her hair, trying not to wince at the pain in his battered face.
“Odin’s balls, my wife was right about you three,” muttered Mathios. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, sit down. No one is getting killed, at least not today. Let us discuss this and work out a strategy for dealing with Leidolf. He shall have his just deserts, but I see no cause for my wife to lose anyone else in her family in achieving that.”
“My thoughts exactly.” None of them had seen Torsteinn enter, but the tall Nordic trader stood in the doorway, his dark cloak about him and Deva at his side. “I assume, going by the commotion I have been hearing about, that my wife is not the only one who remembers Leidolf Baldvinson.”
“Deva also recognised Leidolf?” Mathios eyed the pair with keen, intelligent eyes.
“She did,” confirmed the merchant. “She spotted him as he entered the settlement and told me where she first encountered him. I was on my way here to raise the matter with you, but it would appear events have rather overtaken us.” He joined them at the table, grimacing when he studied Bowdyn’s battered features. “So, what is our plan?”
Bowdyn was baffled. He was beyond baffled, he was quite bewildered. “Our plan? You would help us? Why?”
“For my wife,” replied Torsteinn simply. “She was enslaved by these men, brutalised, terrorised. I owe it to her.”
“And you?” Bowdyn glared at Mathios. “Torsteinn is a merchant, not a raider, but you, you have led Viking raids just like the one on our home. You have robbed, killed. Why would you help us now?”
“You are wrong, Bowdyn. Had you ever asked me about this, I would have told you so. Yes, I have raided villages in Scotland and in England. I have taken treasure from religious houses, and livestock, tools, crops. And yes, I have fought and killed in the doing of it. That is our way, the Viking way. I am not ashamed of what I am. But I have never taken people as slaves, nor have I murdered in cold blood, nor slain innocent people for the mere joy of it. I would not have destroyed your home, and no man of mine has ever, to my knowledge, raped a woman. Had I led the raid on your farm, you and your brother might have been injured or killed if you tried to fight us, but I have no doubt that your parents would have survived since I do not make war on old men or defenceless women and children. Merewyn and Connell are the testimony to that. I do not condone those actions and I do not believe anyone at Agnartved would. Leidolf is not like us, not at all.”
“Yes, but—” Nyle tried to interrupt.
“Wait.” Mathios raised his hand to silence Nyle. “There is more I have to say. I am a Viking and I am proud of that. But there comes a time when it is necessary to choose a side, to know where your loyalties lie. My family is everything to me—my sons, my baby daughter, my wife, and her brothers who are like my own. You are my kin, and know this—whatever the circumstances, I shall always take your side.”
There was silence as Celts and Vikings alike digested the import of Mathios’ words. Merewyn was the first to speak. “So, you will help my brothers? You will help us?”
“Yes, I will. We need to devise a strategy, a way to ensure Leidolf gets what he deserves.”
“Excellent.” Torsteinn helped himself from the jug of ale. “Unlike these hot-headed Celts, I generally prefer to have a plan. So, what is your thinking, Jarl?”
Mathios pondered for a moment. “We need to pick our moment and attack him when he is not expecting it, when he is not surrounded by his men.”
Nyle shook his head. “I have a better idea.”
Bowdyn was not surprised to hear this. Invariably his brother could be relied upon to ‘have a better idea.’
“Go on,” said Mathios.
Nyle leaned his elbows on the table and regarded those around him. “So, we know that Leidolf is seeking dragon ships in order to raid English villages. I think we should aid him in his quest. How many longships do you possess, Mathios?”
“Four.”
“Very well. And you, Torsteinn? How many do you have?”
“Just one. The rest of my vessels are built to carry cargo, not make war.”
“How many ships do you have altogether?”
“Twelve.”
“Could you sell some? Mathios’ four dragon ships will be useful, but we will require perhaps two more, three would be better.”
Torsteinn nodded. “I will provide them.”
“Excellent. In that case, Mathios, you must go and find Leidolf before he drinks the entire settlement dry and inform him that you have had a change of heart and would be delighted to do business with him after all. Tell him that you, too, have been considering going viking and offer to join forces with him. Tell him that you can muster a fleet of six longships, and the men to sail them.”
Mathios eyed Nyle warily but did not take issue with the plan so far, however outlandish it might seem. He did, however, dispute the details of it.
“He will not believe that. Not after that scene outside.”
“Make him believe it,” insisted Nyle.
Now Kristin spoke up. “Leidolf is cunning, but he is also greedy, and he lacks much in the way of wit. You will be able to convince him with flattery and a feast in his honour. He will believe you are his oldest friend and most staunch ally if you ply him with enough fine wine.”
“Very well.” Mathios grinned. “I believe we can manage that. Merewyn, do we still have a barrel or two of that red from Burgundy?”
“I am sure we do. Shall Rowena and I make preparations for the feasting?”
“Yes, do that,” Nyle said. “Meanwhile, Bowdyn and I will remain out of sight. It is vital that Leidolf does not suspect that we are involved. He must not see us on board those longships.”
“You mean that we should attack him at sea?” Mathios looked doubtful.
“And risk good longships, ours as well as his? No, we shall wait for a more opportune moment, but you are right, Mathios. We will attack him when he least expects it. Leidolf Baldvinson will meet a fitting end.”
* * *
A sennight had passed. Leidolf returned to Ravnsklif to make his preparations for the coming expedition and at Agnartved four dragon ships bobbed in the harbour. Two more were expected to arrive at any time, purchased by Torsteinn from a neighbouring settlement. Men sharpened swords and axes, women repaired sails. Barrels of fresh water were loaded, sufficient to sustain the fighting men on their voyage across the North Sea.
Nyle, Bowdyn, Mathios, and Torsteinn watched the preparations.
“This will start a blood war between your family and his,” Torsteinn observed. “Mine too, but I have no kin to worry about save Deva and she accompanies me on my travels. We are abroad more than we are here.”
“I know that,” Mathios replied. “There is no alternative, though. This matter must be avenged.”
“His brothers will likely be with him on his ships, so they will suffer the same fate as Leidolf. We need not be concerned about retribution from them. But Kristin has said that Baldvin had a brother, uncle to Leidolf. Once he hears of this, he will come.”
“There is no help for it. We will defend ourselves here. We will have to, since there will be few in Viking society who will condone what we mean to do.”
“I regret that in aiding us the cost to you will be so great,” Bowdyn offered.
Mathios shrugged. “It cannot be helped. Perhaps we can devise a way of appeasing Baldvin’s brother. A blood price, perhaps.”
“I doubt that,” replied Torsteinn.
Mathios merely nodded. He had no illusions about the enormity of what they contemplated.
“There might be a way…” began Nyle. His three companions turned to him, eyebrows raised.
Mathios gave a dry laugh. “If you have an idea, I would be delighted to hear it.”
They sailed four days later. Six proud dragon ships swept out of Agnartved harbour, their sails billowing as they headed south to meet with Leidolf’s three longships. It had been agreed that Leidolf would lead the raiding party and the Agnartved ships would bring up the rear. Leidolf would select their target and Mathios would follow him into battle. They were to share any spoils equally between the two chieftains.
From where he sat at an oar in the second dragon ship Bowdyn could see Mathios standing at the bow of the first of his ships, in clear view. Leidolf waved a greeting to his new ally.
“May Odin smile upon our fortunes this day.” Leidolf’s words carried on the wind.
Mathios answered with a grim smile and a wave. Bowdyn bent his back and hauled on the oar.
For three days and nights they trailed Leidolf’s ships on their journey, skirting the east coast of Scotland. Bowdyn recognised the abbey at Lindisfarne from his previous voyage with his brother and Kristin. Starkad, who was assuming the role of master on this vessel, gave him a nod as he strode down the deck, bellowing orders to the oarsmen. They both knew who was really the leader here, but it had been agreed that at all costs neither Bowdyn nor Nyle must be seen. His twin played a similar role on the fourth dragon ship in their convoy.
On the morning of the fourth day at sea, there was a shout from Leidolf’s ship.
“We are turning, heading for the shore,” Starkad told him as men rushed to haul on the sail above their heads.
Bowdyn nodded, his expression grim, determined. It was time.
The Agnartved vessels formed a line and followed Leidolf toward the shore. Bowdyn peered over the rail and saw the coastal village that was clearly to be their target. Already the inhabitants were rushing about in panic at the sight of the six dragon ships descending upon them. Women, babies in their arms, fled into the forest and Bowdyn was reminded of that fearful day, now four years previously, when his own little sister had been forced to run for her life.
He looked to the ships on either side of him, seeking out his twin. He found him. Nyle also crouched behind the planks that made up the hull, staying out of sight until the final moments but he gave his brother a silent nod and a wave. The same fire that burned in Bowdyn’s breast could be seen in Nyle’s eyes and both thirsted for the vengeance their parents’ fate demanded.
“Leidolf has reached the beach,” Starkad told him. “His men are going ashore.”
“How long before we land?”
“Moments. Be ready.” The thud and scrape of the beach beneath the hull of the longship was all the signal Bowdyn needed. Their moment had come.
“Now!” he yelled, leaping over the side of the vessel. “With me, with me!”
He landed in water waist deep. To his left and his right men streamed from their ships and waded toward the beach, swords and axes held aloft. Nyle was about a hundred paces from him, splashing from the water and ready to fight. Leidolf’s men were already storming up the beach in the direction of the village.
They had agreed that Mathios, the most seasoned warrior among them and experienced raider, would lead their assault. The jarl was already on the sand, rallying his men to him and Bowdyn waded in his direction. It took but scant moments for the highly trained Vikings to form up around their leader.
“Nyle, Bowdyn, you will take the left and right flanks and rally any Celts who are willing to fight with us. Torsteinn and I will follow Leidolf. Go. Go now.”
All sprang into action. A group of perhaps a dozen Norsemen followed Bowdyn when he sprinted to the right. Villagers cowered as they approached, though several of the men stood their ground armed with shovels and pitchforks. Bowdyn yelled to them in their own tongue.
“We are friends. Join us.”
The men looked to one another in confusion. Bowdyn ordered those Norsemen who had followed him to put up their weapons. The Vikings did so, and Bowdyn tried again. “Those raiders who arrived first, they are no friends of ours. We will slay them, and you may help us or not, as you please. But do not resist us. We mean you and your families no harm so either fight with us or stand aside and let us pass.”
The ragtag bunch of farmers could not have prevented the Viking attack, but they were sufficiently bewildered not to even try. The Vikings charged past them. Bowdyn was pleased to see that a couple of the men actually joined their ranks. It would not take many before the rest followed.
He continued to shout in the Saxon tongue, urging all they passed to either get out of the way or join them. Other Saxon villagers yelled out also, gaining in confidence it would seem. By the time the group burst into the village his ranks had been swelled by perhaps half as much again.
Mathios was there, and Torsteinn. They had already commenced their attack and Leidolf’s men were either lying prone in the dirt or swinging their swords in wild confusion, not sure who was friend or foe. In the centre of the carnage stood Leidolf. He screamed curses at Mathios, threatened to slice him limb from limb and feed his rotting corpse to the ravens. Mathios merely grinned and felled another of Leidolf’s hapless followers.
“Command your men to lay down their weapons,” demanded Bowdyn. “This is between you and us.”
Leidolf turned his furious, disbelieving gaze on the man who strode toward him. “You! The thrall.” He swung around to glare at Mathios. “You told me he had been punished, banished.”
Mathios shrugged. “I lied.”
Leidolf roared his outrage, his frustration, his rage and lunged for Bowdyn. “I should have killed you then. You shall die now, at my feet, you filthy piece of Celtic shite.”
Bowdyn sidestepped the vicious assault with ease. Leidolf was too blinded by rage and blood-lust to even swing his sword straight. None but an unarmed peasant would be in any real peril from him.
Nyle arrived at his side and Bowdyn smiled at his brother. “Do you want him?”
Nyle shook his head. “I grant you that pleasure.”
“I thank you for your generosity.” Bowdyn circled Leidolf, his expression grim. “This is your last day on this earth. You will murder no more old men, rape no more helpless women.”
“What are you babbling about?” Leidolf jabbed uselessly with his sword. “Who are you?”
“Ah, you do not remember me. I am not surprised, not really. I was just a Celt, a thrall to be seized, made prisoner. My brother, also. You probably never even saw our faces, and I daresay you do not recall our home, the farm you attacked, the settlement you burned. The man you cut down in front of his own home and the woman you and your men forced yourselves upon.”
Fear replaced fury in the man’s eyes. His fate was clear, and he sought even now to wriggle away from it. “You are mistaken. It was some other man, I have never—”
“Liar. You are a liar and a coward, but that day you were just a vicious, murdering bastard. You do not remember me, remember us. But we will never forget you. And this day, Leidolf Baldvinson, you will pay for what you did.”
Around them, men were backing away. Leidolf’s warriors, the handful who had not succumbed in the fighting, were being shepherded off by Mathios and his men. They were herded into a cluster at one end of the village, just as the villagers would have been had the invaders had their way. The Saxon prisoners would have been enslaved, dragged from their homes and their families, but that was not the plan for these Norsemen. They were relieved of their weapons to await their fate.
“I found these two trying to get back to their longship.” Torsteinn strode forward. Two Vikings followed him, prodded on the way by the points of several swords. “Your brothers, Baldvinson?”
Bowdyn was not certain he remembered either of them, but Nyle did. “You were on the ship which carried us to the Norseland,” he said. “I recall you, both of you.”
Bowdyn had heard enough. “Stand with your brother,” he commanded. “You fought with him, it is right that you should die together.”
“But we are unarmed,” protested one of the men.
Bowdyn knew their names, Dreng and Jorund, because Kristin had told him, but he had no idea which was which and even less interest in their view of what amounted to the fair and proper treatment of prisoners. Still, he relished the opportunity to fight.
“Hold him.” He gestured to Leidolf and several men leapt to do his bidding. “Give each of them a sword.” Now he pointed to Dreng and Jorund. They were each furnished with a weapon. “So, you may take your pick, brother. Which would you prefer to slay?”
“I’ll take that one.” Nyle selected the man closest to him and swung at him with the sword in his hand.
His adversary dodged the first attack, and the next, but he was no swordsman and the third caught him across the shoulder. He buckled to the ground and Nyle made short work of despatching him while the rest of the Vikings watched dispassionately.
“Now, it is your turn.” Bowdyn offered his opponent the chance to take the first thrust but the blow went well wide. The man tried again, and each time Bowdyn sidestepped. He might have continued the sport for a while longer, but Leidolf awaited and he was their prime target. He lifted his sword and brought it down. His adversary fell, blood pouring from a wound in his neck. Bowdyn paused only long enough to be sure he was dead, then he turned to Leidolf again.
“And so, we come to you,” he began. “You may have a sword and you may choose which of us you will fight. It is of no consequence, you will die today, at our hand.”
Mathios stepped forward to offer a sword to their enemy, but before Leidolf could take it there was an almost inhuman shriek from somewhere to their left. Bowdyn swung around in time to see the slight figure of a woman dash across the clearing, her hand upraised. She leapt upon Leidolf and sank her dagger into his throat. The Viking toppled. The Saxon woman fell with him, still stabbing at him though her blows were ineffective now. It did not matter, the first one had been decisive, lethal. Leidolf lay dying in the mud before their eyes.
It was Mathios who grabbed at the still screaming woman and knocked the dagger from her hand. He pulled her off the lifeless body of Bowdyn’s enemy and wrapped his arms about her, holding her still while she continued to scream and rail at them all.
“He killed my boy. There, on the beach. He was just twelve, my Harold, fishing for our supper. He tried to flee but this man grabbed him and slit his throat. I saw it. He deserved to die, I would do it again. My boy, my son…”
Mathios released her and the distraught female faced the Vikings who surrounded her. “He was my life, my only child. I do not care what you do to me…”
Bowdyn drew in a long, steadying breath, then gave her a bow. “I am deeply sorry for your grievous loss this day. I would that we had been able to prevent any bloodshed at all, save for those who deserved it.” He cast a satisfied glance at the three men who lay on the ground. “Your right was equal to ours. You have saved us the trouble of killing him, and I thank you. Justice has been served.”