Viking Treasure

  Viking Treasure

  Book 13 in the

  Dragon Heart Series

  By

  Griff Hosker

  Published by Sword Books Ltd 2016

  Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition

  The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

  Cover by Design for Writers

  Prologue

  When we had defeated King Coenwulf and King Egbert in sight of Old Olaf it had been a mixed victory. We had gained great quantities of ransom for the crowns I sold back to King Egbert and we had gained peace from both the men of Wessex and the men of Mercia yet we had lost many fine warriors. There were empty hearths in my land and that saddened me. My only consolation was that my young son, Gruffyd, and my grandson, Ragnar, had both shown that they were Vikings. They had both faced the enemy and not flinched.

  As I rode my horse, Storm Rider, along the shores of the water at Cyninges-tūn I wondered if we could continue to hold on to this precious jewel that was known as the Land of the Wolf. The Danes of Eoforwic, now called Jorvik, both hated and feared us. It was still Northumbria but King Eanred had a tenuous hold on the land. They were waxing in power as that of the Saxons waned. There would come a time when their hatred would overcome their fear of me or perhaps a young warrior would decide to take on the old man that was Jarl Dragonheart. That day would come and I was not becoming younger. Wessex had sworn to keep the peace but King Egbert hated my family so much that I knew the oath would mean nothing to them. We were barbarians and their priests would condone such an act.

  Sometimes the Weird Sisters acted in conjunction with the spirits which protected my land. I often wondered if they all sat together watching. Did the Gods in Asgard move us around as pieces of carved bone on a board? Perhaps I amused them. Did they set me challenges wondering if I would overcome them?

  That morning, as I rode in the chill early morning air I was alone. The fog on the water lay like a thick blanket so that I could not see the far shore. What I could see was Olaf's craggy top. That morning his face seemed even more pronounced. I could see his empty mouth and it seemed to be smiling. That had been a rare occurrence when Olaf the Toothless was alive. A shaft of sunlight suddenly glinted on his face and it seemed to me that his eye winked. Then more sunlight flooded from the east and Olaf's features disappeared. I could just see the mountain rising above the fog.

  I kicked Storm Rider on and headed towards the lower slopes of our holy mountain. Olaf wished me to visit. I do not know how the thought came to me but it became clear as day and I decided to visit the lofty crag. By the time I had reached the Blue Water, where I would leave my horse, the fog had disappeared and the valley was bathed in sunlight. I saw the tiny dots that were my people as they began their daily work. On the hillsides warriors and their sons tended sheep and cattle. Smoke rose from their farms as their wives and daughters cooked food. Bjorn Bagsecgson's smiths' hammers rang out like bells as they worked their metal. Life was going on.

  I ascended to the top and sat on a flat rock, taking in all that I could see. It was such a clear day that I saw Man and Hibernia. Looking north I saw the Wolf Mountain and beyond it the wall the Romans had built. Finally my eye was drawn to the east. The Danes lived there but, strangely, I seemed to look beyond the sea which bounded this island the Romans called Britannia. I saw the land of Ragnar and Prince Butar; the land of the Norse. I saw the home in which I had grown and become a warrior. It seemed to me that I was taken there and saw myself and the old, crippled man. I closed my eyes and felt a sudden shiver. The old women said that was someone walking over your grave while others said it meant your death was imminent. I did not know what it meant but I knew it meant something. I stood. I surveyed the Land of the Wolf and I felt proud. If those who determined such things, the Weird Sisters, the Gods, the Spirits, had decided that my life had run its course and my thread was ended then I could be proud. I had ringed my land with strongly fortified halls ruled by Hersir and Jarls who were superior to any foe who came. My people were rich and enjoyed a life free from the fear of famine. The land was fertile and we prospered. We had not had a wolf winter for some years. Perhaps my time was coming to an end. I was now the same age that Prince Butar had been when he had been slain on Man. But if it was coming to a close I would not go quietly to the otherworld. I would do as I had always done; the best I could for my people.

  I nodded and said, loudly, "If it is wyrd that I join you, Olaf and Ragnar, then so be it. But do not expect me to rush to see you. I still have much to do. I am still Dragonheart; I am still Lord of the Land of the Wolf!"

  Chapter 1

  The recent wars and battles meant that my warriors had no reason to seek glory in raiding. We had gained much booty from the Saxons and Danes. They had been both well armed and laden with riches. My warriors tended their fields and their animals; they watched their children play. They hunted in the forests which covered the land of the Wolf. Those who had no farms or were single ventured across my land hunting and exploring the high places. Snorri and Beorn the Scout spent many days away from the stad. Beorn had almost lost a leg in the recent war and the two of them tramped for miles strengthening his leg.

  I practised sword play with my young son, Gruffyd. He was growing rapidly. I did not bother overmuch with my new daughter, Erika. She clung to her mother or, if they visited, Kara and Ylva. The two nuns who lived with us, Macha and Deidra, made a great deal of fuss of her. I just smiled at her when she recited something she had been taught. A short time of smiling back made my face ache and I would play with my son instead. Brigid did not seem to mind. She and my daughter, Kara, shared daughters and they were happy enough. Kara's husband, Aiden, worked on potions and ointments to heal wounds and voraciously devoured any parchments and books that he could. He gathered knowledge like a squirrel gathers nuts. Fatherhood had made him more inward looking. He rarely travelled abroad with me now. That was wyrd. I did not mind. I had my Ulfheonar.

  As summer waned into harvest our lives were settled. Our new warriors practised at arms and were eager to learn how to go A-Viking and our people prospered. The Weird Sisters inevitably became bored and they spun their threads. Snorri and Beorn returned from one of their forays. They had been away for some time and, when they arrived back without game I wondered why. The sentry on the watch tower saw them approaching along the side of the Water. He shouted to me. Wolf Killer, my son, was with them.

  I went to the Waterside, with Gruffyd to watch them approach. A passing fishing boat pulled over to fetch them. All knew of the prowess of Snorri and Beorn. Who knew what news they brought?

  Gruffyd saw the three riders and said, "Mother said that Snorri is going to take a wife, father. Will he?"

  Women liked to gossip and to match make. "Eystein the Rock left a widow. Snorri is just helping her at their farm as is Asbjorn the Strong. It is kindness only. In this clan we look after all; especially the maimed, the widows and their children."

  "Like Karl One Hand!" I nodded. "People say that only the Dragonheart would have offered a place for a one armed warrior." He said it with the innocence of a child.

  "Karl swore an oath to me and he kept it. Every jarl who has oathsworn has a responsibility to those who give
their lives for him. Remember that, my son. An oath is a sacred thing. Besides is Karl not a good warrior yet?" Karl practised with my son when I was busy.

  "He is. Even with one hand he is faster than I am."

  "There you are then. It is not kindness. It is common sense."

  I was distracted by the boat which was carried by the wind to grate upon the shingle and sand beach of the Water. Snorri, not my son, was the first to land. He clasped my arm, "I bring news, Jarl, of danger. When I told Wolf Killer he thought to come too."

  I gave a coin to the fisherman, Sven Audunsson, "Come we will go to my hall and talk." I saw that he had brought his youngest son, Garth. He had been named after me. He was a quiet and thoughtful child. As we walked to my hall his hand found mine. I smiled down at him. I did not see enough of him. I would wait to speak until we reached my hall for I disliked talking about danger and trouble in the open. There were many ears and some were given to gossip. They could take a half snatched conversation and make it into an apocalypse. I preferred the people calm and content than agitated."You are growing young Garth. Soon you will have your first seax!"

  His face lit into a smile, "Will you have your smith, Bjorn Bagsecgson, make one for me, grandfather? Then it would be a mighty weapon."

  "Of course."

  We entered my hall. Uhtric, my servant, fetched us beer. Brigid was with Kara and Aiden at their hall. The four of us sat around my table and Gruffyd squatted nearby hoping I would not send him away.

  Snorri began without preamble. "We went to Hwitebi."

  "Hwitebi? That is as far east as a man can go. What were you hunting?"

  He looked embarrassed and Beorn the Scout said, "He went find some jet. He had a mind to carve something for Eystein's widow!"

  Snorri waved a hand in an irritated manner, "It matters not why we went there it is the news we discovered that is important." I saw Wolf Killer smile. Snorri was no longer a young man and he was awkward about such things. "We came across a Frisian up on the high moors close to Hwitebi. It was in a valley filled with the yellow flowers. He had been attacked and left for dead. When he saw the wolf cloak he grabbed hold of me."

  Beorn said, "The man was dying, Jarl. Dying men do not lie."

  I nodded.

  Snorri continued, "He begged to hold my sword so that he could go to Valhalla. He believed in the old ways. He said he would pay for the loan with knowledge. The son of Rurik of Dorestad, Ragnar Ruriksson, is gathering warriors. He wishes to avenge himself on you. He is being supported by Grimoald, the Mayor of Neustria. He is still angry with us for our raids. Then the man died. We buried him and returned thence."

  I nodded. The three of them looked at me expectantly and Gruffyd was barely breathing he was so engrossed. I ran through what they had said in my mind. "Who killed the warrior?"

  They both shrugged and Snorri said, "He did not say. I think he wanted to give the information to us."

  Wolf Killer said, "I see the Weird Sisters' hands in this." He grasped his wolf amulet for protection. "Have we not enough enemies? Rurik was a nithing! He deserved to die."

  I smiled, "A Viking who has no enemies is not a Viking!" I turned to Gruffyd, "Go and find Aiden. Say I have need of him." He looked disappointed, "Do not fear, you will miss nothing. Take Garth with you. He looks bored."

  He raced out. I could imagine him dragging poor Aiden bodily back to my hall.

  I lifted my sword out of its scabbard and laid it upon the table. "When the Gods touched this they bestowed honour and rewards. It has helped us to destroy our enemies but there is a price to pay. The Gods want it used against our enemies. We have defeated the men of Wessex, Mercia, Dyflin, Corn Walum and Eoforwic. The Welsh have been cowed and the men of Man fear us. Did you think the Gods would want us to sit in our halls growing fat and listening to Haaken One Eye's tales of our deeds?" They all smiled ruefully and shook their heads. "Then we do what we always do we consult with Aiden and Kara. I will send Raibeart ap Pasgen to spy and we will prepare for war."

  Wolf Killer raised his horn of ale, "I hope my little half brother can fill your boots, father, for I fear I will not."

  "A man never knows what he can do until he has no choice. Until Prince Butar was slain I did not think I would be able to lead our people and yet here I am almost twenty years later and I am still alive." I raised my own horn and drank deeply, "I am grateful for each day on this earth." Wolf Killer gave me a quizzical look.

  Aiden was dragged unceremoniously into the hall. My galdramenn was laughing. "This must be important! They risked the wrath of their sister to fetch me."

  I pointed to the side of my chair, "Now sit there and be quiet!" I turned to Aiden and told him our news.

  He seemed as calm as I was. He nodded, "I am guessing, Jarl Dragonheart, that you are not immediately worried about this."

  "Not worried; concerned, interested...."

  "If Rurik's son is raising men to fight us he has two choices, as did his father. He can land in the east and cross the land of the Danes or he can board ships and sail around the coast of Wessex and Wales."

  "Those were my thoughts too. But he could come through the land of Eanred, Northumbria."

  "True and that is his most dangerous course of action for the Danes are unpredictable and the coast unpredictable especially for the next months. The seas can be as stormy as in winter. The Saxon king might well wish to help an army of Frisians and Franks. If they could hurt us then he might have the kingdom he inherited." Aiden nodded and drank his ale. "The more I consider it the more I think it likely that will happen. This Ragnar Ruriksson may well come through that land."

  "Have you dreamed?"

  "No Wolf Killer for this is the first I have heard. Your sister and I will dream but the Frisians are far away. Our power comes from this land and our people." He drank some of the beer which Uhtric had poured. "This Ragnar Ruriksson must be your age, Wolf Killer. I remember him from Dorestad. He was a pale sulky youth. There must be someone behind him who uses his name."

  I nodded, "The Neustrians. They did not like our raids. The Danes," I spread my arms, "they are ever looking for a chance to expand into our lands."

  "So, father, what do we do?"

  "I will visit with King Eanred at Bebbanburgh. I will go as a neighbour." Enigmatically I left it at that.

  Wolf Killer said, "And?"

  "And I will speak with him. I will warn him of the dangers of poking the wolf. I have no doubt that he will fear my visit and mistrust my words but I will take Aiden and Ketil Windarsson with me. Perhaps I will take him a gift."

  "A gift? Why?"

  "Because the Saxons of the east have not bothered us for many years and I would keep it that way. It will not cost us much and if we are to face a force funded from Neustria then we will need every warrior we can get. And I will send Raibeart to Dorestad. He has sharp ears and a quick mind. We will see what he can discover. Besides we have many goods which can be sold."

  I could see that Wolf Killer was still worried. He downed his ale and poured himself some more, "But if you and Aiden are successful and persuade the King not to ally himself with our enemies then it is likely they will come from Eoforwic and many Danes will join them. I am directly in their path."

  I sighed. We had this debate too often. I decided to give him my thoughts, "You chose to live there, my son because you wished to be away from me and Kara." I saw him colour and begin to bluster. "It is the truth and all in this room, save Gruffyd know it." I pointed a finger at him. "And little ones should keep their counsel!" I nodded and he did too. "You are more than welcome to return here and live. There is more than enough room for you and your people to make their home where it is safe. Ketil has the same problem as you do and he complains not. You want your freedom then you have to pay the price."

  He downed more ale, "It just seems wrong that my people might pay the price for something they did not do."

  "Not do? As I recall Rurik came here to attack me. He brought Danes who woul
d have ravaged your land too had we not fought together. We are one clan, my son. Or at least I thought we were."

  There was an awkward silence. Gruffyd had made himself as small as he could. Aiden was closer to Wolf Killer than anyone. It was he who broke the silence. "You may be right, Wolf Killer, Ragnar Ruriksson may well come from Eoforwic and if he does then you would be correct in assuming that many Danes would flock to his banner. We are a rich prize and many would like to take this land. If that is true then they will have to come through your land."

  "Your words are cold comfort, Aiden."

  "Would you rather I did not speak the truth? Until we know more then we prepare for every possibility. Your father goes to Bebbanburgh. We can tell Coen ap Pasgen of the dangers and he can prepare his defences. You must do the same. If they leave Frisia now they might be at your home after the harvest. If that is true then you use the land. There are many bogs and wetlands close to you. Make them more so. Use your river to flood them. When winter comes they will be impassable. Make your ditches deep and your walls higher. Lay in food and water. Once your father knows where Ragnar Ruriksson is we can meet him and defeat him."

  My son stared at the floor. "There is no honour in sitting behind a wall." He sounded petulant and I rose angrily. Erika would have calmed me. Brigid would have restrained me. As it was there was no one. "You do not want an answer! You just wish to complain! Aiden has given you ideas and yet you reject them. You would argue that black was white! Go back to your wife and decide what it is you really wish. I will visit with you before I go to Bebbanburgh!"

  He was angry and he rose and faced me. Had his hand gone to his sword then there would have been bloodshed. He thought better of it. Even my son feared the sword that was touched by the gods. He stormed out. Beorn and Snorri stared at the puddles left by my son's spilled beer.

  Aiden shook his head, "Lord, you have become ill tempered of late. The old Dragonheart would have bitten back on his tongue and been more patient."