The Duke and the King Read online

  “Go to war? The Bretons have been at peace. Why stir them?”

  “Because, Odo, son of Bergil Fast Blade, we are still Vikings. We cannot fight the Franks. Your father has sunk into a pit of despair. We are warriors and a true warrior has no time for such self-indulgence. Your father’s ailment has been sent to stir me from my comfortable life. Come. Time is wasting!”

  Bergil’s hall was not Viking, it was Frank. I saw the wall hangings his wife had placed upon the wall. There were metal goblets on the table and not horns. A priest was emerging from Bergil’s chamber. One thing I did like about the White Christ was his healers. We had volva but the priests who knew how to heal had saved many of our people. I respected them.

  “This is Father Geoffrey, our healer.”

  “Tell me, Father, will my lord live?”

  The priest smiled, “Duke Robert, the words men speak of you are true. You are a plain-spoken man. If Lord Bergil eats more and drinks much less then he might still live. If he continues as he has been then we will bury him inside a month.”

  I liked this priest, “And your honesty does you credit.” I turned to Bergil’s sons. “And you two will ensure that he obeys the priest’s commands.” I saw the look of apprehension on their faces. I laughed. “Do not worry, your father will heed my words. Now leave me. I will deal with this. Leave a servant outside the door so that I may send for food.”

  I entered and was shocked by what I saw. Bergil was a bloated version of the man I had known. His face looked to be twice the size I remembered. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy. I took in the empty jug of wine. Some had spilt upon his sheets. It looked as though he had bled in battle. He was not fighting men. He was fighting himself for his life and losing. This was not the same man who had helped me to fight our way from the fjord and to grasp this corner of the land of the Franks. He had been taken. It would have been better if he had died in Paris as Æbbi Bonecrusher and my other heroes. Then he would be in Valhalla and when I met him again, he would be the same warrior I had fought alongside.

  His eyes flickered open, “Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson! What brings you here to my land?”

  “I came to see an old friend but found, instead, a grotesque and bloated creature who has consumed Bergil Fast Blade. What happened?”

  He tried to rise and I saw that it caused him pain. “My wife left me!”

  “And she took with you your strength and your honour?” I shook my head. “Your uncle was jarl. What would he say now? Rouse yourself and rise!”

  He sank back into the soft bed. “I cannot. Let me die!”

  I grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. He was overweight but I still exercised every day. I could still cleave a pig’s head in two with one blow from my Long Sword. “If you are going to die then it will be on your feet with a sword in your hand. It will be as a Viking and not a pitiful excuse for a Frank!”

  As he stood and looked at me, I saw him begin to gag. I moved out of the way as he vomited on the floor. I noticed specks of blood, or perhaps it was wine, in the puddle that spread across the floor.

  “Come, we will get some fresh air.”

  He tried to resist me but I was too strong, “No Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson, my men cannot see me like this! Let me hide in my chamber!”

  I put my face close to him. “Do you think your men do not know what you are like? This room stinks! They know already!” I opened the door and a surprised servant stood there. “Lord Bergil has been unwell. Clean his chamber and put fresh bedding upon his bed. From now on he drinks ale only! No wine!” The servant glanced at Bergil for confirmation. I roared, “I am Duke and you will obey me or die!”

  “Yes, lord!”

  I almost dragged my old friend out into the daylight. It was not particularly bright but he had to shade his eyes. I saw Father Geoffrey. He was smiling. He nodded, “The first steps, Duke Robert, are always the hardest!”

  I headed for the ladder which led to the fighting platform over the gatehouse. I thought Bergil might vomit as we climbed the steps but he did not. When we reached the top, he began to take deep breaths. I let go of his arm and he leaned on the wooden palisades.

  When I spoke, I used a quieter voice, “My friend we have both been unlucky with women. Poppa is now in a nunnery and I can take women to my bed if I need them.”

  “But my daughters!”

  “Are gone. If you want them then stir yourself and take them back!”

  He turned and looked at me, “My wife left me for a Breton!”

  “And since when have Bretons worried us? We are warriors! You have forgotten that. You were Bergil Fast Blade and now you have become Bergil Big Belly!” The look he flashed me was filled with anger. I laughed, “That is better! The old Bergil hides within this bloated beast I see before me! Although if you drew your weapon now, I fear it would end badly for you!” I put my arm around his shoulder. I still towered over all of my men. I had grown old but I was not stooped as some were. “Listen, old friend. I have told the servants that you will not drink wine. You will drink small beer. You will exercise each day with your sons and hearth weru. You have two good boys there, I can see that, and you must prepare them to take over this land. When you can wear your mail once more then we will make war on the Bretons. We will seek your wife and take back your daughters! How is that?”

  “Can I do it?”

  I laughed, “Of course you can. Can you not hear them, Bergil Fast Blade? The Norns have been spinning; they are not yet done with us!”

  “The Norns? I thought you were Christian?”

  “Sprinkling a little water on my head cannot change my blood. Do you not believe that the sisters still spin?”

  He nodded, “Aye, lord.”

  “Then, if we are fated to die, let us at least die as warriors with swords in our hands. My son can rule this land if I was to fall!”

  He nodded and took a deep breath, “Then I will follow you once more. You are right. I need my blade in my hand!”

  In the end, I stayed for three days. I impressed upon his sons and his priest the need to ensure that Bergil worked hard. It would be the only way he would defeat his demons. I also learned much of the lie of the land south of the Seine. Brittany was an obvious target. I did not think we would find Bergil’s wife. She would be far away now. Brittany was just an excuse. There would be other lords like Bergil who grew fat and comfortable. I needed lean and hungry warriors. I needed Vikings. As we left to ride back to Caen I began to plan. How many other lords had become fat and complacent? I had been as negligent as Bergil. I had not become a drunk and bloated but I had lost sight of my aim and that of my grandfather. He had been told by a witch that his blood would rule a land which would be greater than the land of the Franks. I had a large land but it was nothing compared with the land of the Saxons and the Franks. I had thought the title fulfilled that prophecy. I was wrong. I would summon my lords to Rouen. It was one thing for them to pay taxes to me. They now needed to pay homage and to obey my commands.

  I told Sámr of my plans when I reached Caen. The delight on his face warmed my heart. We spoke at length about the campaign to take fresh lands. His words gave flesh to the bones of the plan which was in my head. In the past, those ideas might have come from Bergil. He might become the man I once knew but Sámr Oakheart showed that I still had warriors with desire in their hearts. I relished the voyage home. I was at sea. It was a place where I was comfortable. I had fallen to the bottom of the ocean and I had lived. The sea was never an enemy to me. Watching my land slip by energised me and gave me ideas. As soon as I leapt from my ship, leaving others to see to its mooring, I raced to my hall. Before we had left for Paris, all those years ago, Padraig had shown great foresight. He had begun to train three young priests to serve as clerks for me. I also knew that he wanted me surrounded by priests so that they would act as a conscience. They were the ones who ran the business of my land. They could read and write. I could too but I did not enjoy it. They understood figur
es and, best of all, they were honest. Padraig had seen to that when he had chosen and trained them. Now that we were Christian, they were even happier about their job. Harold was the most senior and he was assisted by Thomas and Henry. I would meet with them once each week and they would tell me the state of my land. The price I paid was that they constantly chivvied me to build churches. I was no fool. I knew that the churches would be paid for by the Christians and the building of such churches would not only gain me favour in my own land but also at the court of King Charles. It was ironical really. When I had been a pagan, I had burned down the cathedral of Rouen. Now I had had it rebuilt. It was where I had been baptised. This had been the second baptism. The Archbishop himself had performed the act. It was symbolic for the King of the Franks wanted my people to see me baptised.

  As soon as I reached my hall, I sent servants to fetch my priests. They all looked identical. Each wore a simple habit. They were clean shaven and they had their hair so short that it was hard to see if they were bald or not! I sat at my table and waved them before me. They always brought wax tablets when they were summoned. They knew that orders would follow.

  “I wish my lords summoning here to a meeting. We will have to arrange accommodation for them all. The meeting will last three days.”

  The other two scratched and Harold said, “When would you like this meeting to take place, lord? It will take a week for the message to reach those of your lords who live at the far end of the county.”

  “In one month’s time.”

  He nodded, “That will give us time to arrange the food, the ale and the beds. Would you wish their warriors to come too?”

  I shook my head, “Hearth weru only.” As much as I trusted my men some were new appointments. When lords died their sons took over. Some sons I knew, others I did not.

  We discussed numbers, food and the like then Harold asked, “And is there a purpose for this meeting, lord?”

  I trusted my priests but they were priests and might be loose-lipped. I would give them a plausible purpose for the meeting. I leaned back, “I should have had more gatherings with my lords. I have forgotten my purpose. This will become a twice-annual event. You will need to arrange this regularly.”

  “Then we will need more accommodation building.”

  “We have coin?”

  “Not as much as we once had but enough.”

  “Soon we may have more. I intend war.” They looked at each other. I saw the unspoken questions on their lips. I smiled, “Not the Franks. The Bretons and the Saxons have treasure. The Bretons have land. If we fight the Bretons, we gain land and coin.”

  There was relief on their faces. Harold, however, counselled me, “Lord you may anger the Pope by attacking Christians.”

  I leaned forward, “The Pope? Is he a King who commands me? Did I swear an oath to him too?”

  “He is head of the Church lord. You could be excommunicated and that would negate the treaty with the King of Frankia.”

  I smiled, “You know that I am an ignorant barbarian so enlighten me. Did the White Christ appoint this Pope?”

  “Lord, you are far from ignorant. No, Jesus, our lord, did not appoint the Pope. When the Romans adopted Christianity, they created a Pope to bring order to it.”

  Thomas said, “Aye, lord, Jesus said where two or three are gathered together there is my church.”

  “So, the Pope is a creation of the Romans?” They all nodded. “And when I ride my horse, I can choose to ride a Roman Road or not. It is my choice.”

  Harold knew me better than the other two. “Lord, that is a dangerous road to travel. The Pope has the ultimate power. Even King Charles and the Emperor obey him.”

  “What does this excommunication mean? Does it stop me being a Christian?”

  “No lord but you would not be able to receive the sacraments. You would not be able to use the church and you would not be able to confess to a priest.”

  They made it sound draconian but to me, it sounded perfect. “And only the Pope can do this?”

  “Aye lord.”

  “And who is the Pope now?”

  “It is a new one, lord, Pope John. Pope Lando died a couple of years since.”

  “And he lives in Italy?”

  Thomas seemed eager to furnish me with information. “Aye lord, he is busy fighting the Saracens in Italy! He is a zealous man.”

  If his eyes were in the east then he might not concern himself with the west. “I will bear it in mind but we still prepare for war. Order arrows and spears. I want every drekar preparing for sea. How many do we have?”

  “Your lords have twenty and there are fifteen drekar here at Rouen.”

  “It is not enough. How many ships are there in Rouen?”

  “Including knarr and snekke there are almost a hundred.”

  “Good then if we have not enough drekar we commandeer those. We do not have far to sail.” I waved a hand, “You have plenty to occupy you. Go.”

  I found my son in the warrior hall. He and Godwin were drinking with his hearth weru. Ragnar the Resolute stood as I entered. He was one of my most senior and dependable lords. William had upon his knee a young slave. He patted her bottom and whispered in her ear. She ran off giggling. “Father! You have been at sea! Were you raiding?”

  I turned the frown into a smile as I looked at my son, “No, William. You are the raider!”

  “It is in my blood and I have such good warriors that it would be a shame to sit here behind Rouen’s walls and drink all day!”

  I laughed but it was an empty laugh, “And yet that is what you are doing!”

  “We are planning. Ragnar the Resolute called in to see you and we began talking about raids in the past. Godwin Red Eyes was telling him of a mighty abbey in Wessex. It is said that Alfred left all of his jewels and treasure there.”

  The Norns were spinning. I needed to stir my men. I had thought of Brittany. Perhaps this was a different opportunity for me. I looked at Godwin. He would not lie. “You know this how, Godwin?”

  I saw him push the horn of ale away when he spoke. “The abbey is at Newminster Abbey. It is close to Wintan-Caestre. There was always a rumour that Alfred favoured this abbey at Newminster Abbey. His son Edward had it extended and it was there they reburied the King. King Edward made a visit there two years since in the dead of winter. It is said he took six wagons and the wagons were brought back to Wintan-Caestre empty.”

  “How did you learn of this Godwin?”

  My son said, “When we…”

  I held up my hand, “I asked Godwin. Let him speak, my son.”

  My son subsided. He was excited I could see that. He had seen more than twenty-five summers and yet sometimes he seemed like a youth who had just learned how to use his weapon.

  “We captured a ship off Haestingaceaster six months since. Most of the crew perished but one was saved. We brought him back and he told us. He hoped to win his freedom by the knowledge.”

  “And where is he now?”

  Godwin looked at William and then said, “We made him a thrall. He tried to escape and was killed.” I knew from the look that my son had had him killed. It was a typically hasty action. He would have to change if he was to take over from me.

  “And why have you not raided for this treasure?” I looked at my son and nodded for him to speak.

  “Wintan-Caestre is close by and there is a royal burgh there. We have raided Hamwic so many times that they have now begun to build it in stone. We would need more than one ship.”

  “You need me, in fact.”

  My son grinned. He had a winning way with him. It was said that he just needed to flash a smile and women would open their legs for him. I knew he had fathered at least five children. “Aye, father, but you seemed so comfortable that we thought it a waste of time to ask you.” He suddenly saw my face and realised that was no longer true. “You would raid?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Godwin shook his head, “Lord, this is an abbey. It is o
ne thing for pagans to raid an abbey but you are a Christian Duke. The church would frown upon such activity. We might get away with it but you are well known and we could not hide you.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Godwin Red Eyes. Let me worry about upsetting this Pope.” I stood. “I have invited my lords to a meeting here in a month. We will be trying to take land from the Bretons. Do not raid them in the meantime. Let them think that we have turned our axes into ploughshares.”

  My son looked pleased. Ragnar the Resolute had remained silent. He had farmed land in the west and the Bretons had destroyed it while he had been raiding the Irish. His wife and children had been taken as slaves. He was still bitter about it and hated the Bretons more than any. He said, “Count Gourmaëlon of Brittany is a cunning man, lord. It was he destroyed my family and many others in the borderlands. He is Count of Cornouaille and has many fortresses in the west of Brittany. It is why I came to speak with you. I live close to the land of the Bretons and I have heard rumours.”

  “Ragnar, is he more cunning than me?”

  Ragnar allowed a smile to play upon his face, “No, lord. Only Sven Blue Cheek could match you for cunning.” He nodded. “Then I look forward to the time I can stick the Breton count’s skull upon a spear!”

  After I had left my son I sent for Father Thomas and Egil. My priest had maps. I had him bring the maps to my chamber. I studied the maps and questioned him at length. I used Egil to sound out my ideas. A priest knew nothing of war. I learned a great deal. I learned that the son of Alan the Great now lived in England at the court of King Edward. This Count of Cornouaille was not given the title of Count of Brittany. That suggested he was not as strong as my men thought. The land of Cornouaille was, indeed, filled with narrow inlets and strongholds but Nantes was not. I sent for Erik Leifsson and he joined us. I needed a navigator and Erik was the best. After half a day I had my plan. I knew what I would do and I could prepare to meet my men and let them know my intentions.