The Exploits of Ragnar Lodbrok

The exploits of Ragnar Lodbrok

From the mysterious mists of Viking age Scandinavia many heroes emerged to gain renown in their own time and immortality in the saga literature.

None of these heroes was more handsome, brave, charming and abundantly willing to call attention to these his attributes than Ragnar Lodbrok.

Part One

The stoney beach which lay dusted with a fine layer of snow was crowded with locals when Ragnar arrived. Through the mist rising from the frigid waters of the fjord he caught a glimpse of the large longship that had moored close to shore with its gaping gilded dragon heads attached to bow and stern.

     Waving and shouting their greetings at the spectators warriors on the ship began disembarking as they jumped into the shallow water and waded the short distance to shore.  

     Ragnar, making frequent use of his elbows and at times uttering some colourful expletives, pushed through the throng of people until he caught side of his best friend and blood brother, Ingvar, among the warriors. “Here, Ingvar,” he yelled, waving at him.

     Ingvar turned his head in his direction and right away spotted him. He said something to the warrior next to him, who nodded. Ingvar hurried towards Ragnar and when he reached him swept him up in a big bear hug. Ingvar smelled of the sea mixed with the sour odour that all seafaring men acquired after a while, that of an unwashed body. 

     “How good it is to see you.” Ingvar slapped Ragnar on the back. He let go of him and placing his hands on Ragnar’s shoulders held him at arm’s length while looking at him. “You look pale, my friend. Too much time spent inside a hall is my guess.”

      Ragnar gave him a lacklustre smile. “Since Thora passed away I haven’t much…” He finished the sentence with a resigned shrug.

     Ingvar squeezed Ragnar’s shoulders and let go. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

    Together they headed toward the small settlement where Ragnar resided with his father-in-law, Earl Herraud. 

     “I know how much Thora meant to you,” Ingvar said. “I only wish I could have been there for you when it happened.”

     “So do I.” Ragnar added a dejected sigh to the statement.

     “I hope she didn’t suffer too much.”

      Ragnar wiped snow from his brow with the back of his hand. The flakes were getting bigger now carrying the promise of yet another heavy snowfall “No, Thora quietly slipped away. One moment she was breathing and then suddenly,” he paused for a moment and then added in a near whisper, “she…she was gone.”

    Ingvar stopped when Earl Herraud’s dwelling came into view. “Mighty Odin,” he said in awe. 

    Ingvar was right to be impressed because Ragnar’s father-in-law’s new longhouse was indeed impressive. Massive rafters, whose ends had been ornately carved into images of serpents’ heads, supported the peaked roof which it had taken about ten of the strongest men in the district to erect. 

    Ingvar gazed towards the fjord where his ship rolled in the the sudden strong wind gusts that swept down from the mountains. “Ragnar, I’m afraid that I’m the bearer of bad news.” He turned to Ragnar giving him a solemn look. “Your brother, Siward, died a fortnight ago.”

      Ragnar gaped at him for a moment. “Siward dead! But how?”

      Ingvar pulled his cloak tighter around his lean frame to ward of the chilly wind. “Circumstances surrounding his demise are sketchy at best but rumours are that he was poisoned.”

     “Poisoned by whom?” Ragnar shook his head in disbelief. “That can’t be. He was always so careful.”

     “Apparently it was a conspiracy within his own trusted ranks.”

     Ragnar snorted. “Siward didn’t trust a soul after he became king of Denmark. Last I heard he even sought the services of a sorceress to keep his supposed enemies at bay.”

      Ingvar bit his lip for a moment. “I too have heard of Aud, the sorceress. Apparently she can predict the future.” He gave Ragnar a wry smile. “I guess her gifts leave something to be desired since she couldn’t predict Siward’s own death.”

     Ragnar returned his smile. “You’re right there, my friend.”

     “A certain Harald Hairless has laid claim to his throne,” Ingvar said.

      Ragnar shook his head. “I’ve never heard of him.”

     Ingvar raised his eyebrows. “He’s apparently a descendent of King Godfred and he has been successful in convincing important people in Denmark that you’ve no interest in the affairs of their country.” He hesitated before he went on. “He has been telling them that you’re far too busy looking after your interests up here in the Norway to bother.”

     “That’s a blatant lie,” Ragnar blurted out. He could feel the heat of anger rise to his cheeks and suddenly felt more alive than he had in a long time. He noticed that Ingvar was regarding him with a pleased expression.

     “Ragnar, how glad I am to see you take an interest in the world around you.”

     Ragnar dismissed Ingvar’s remark with an impatient gesture of his hand. “This is outrageous. With Siward gone, may he be feasting in Odin’s hall, I’m the rightful heir to that throne and everyone knows it.”

       Ingvar took a deep breath. “That might be, but if you don’t soon lay your claim you’ll very likely lose all support among the Danish earls.”

       Ragnar squared his shoulders underneath his heavy woollen cloak. “The Kingdom of Denmark is mine.” He gritted his teeth. “You only wait until I get my hands on that filthy fraud. I’ll show him who’s the rightful heir.”

    ***

Earl Herraud viewed his son-in-law with regret. “I’m so sorry, Ragnar, that I can’t spare anymore ships.” He folded his big hands on the tabletop. “If only I was able to settle my dispute with King Eyvind, I could give you twenty-five more, but unfortunately the old boar is being very stubborn and disagreeable and won’t consider a truce.”

      Ingvar, who was sitting next to Herraud, watched Ragnar hang his head. He looked close to defeat. Ingvar and Ragnar had spent nearly a month in a tireless effort to procure enough support for Ragnar’s cause, first among the Danes, then friends that Ragnar had in Norway and Gautland. All they had to show for their efforts was an invasion fleet of barely forty ships, which was pitiful.

      “I’ll need at least a hundred ships.” Ragnar slapped the palm of his hand so hard on the table  that cups and plates jumped. “I’ll be forced to sit here and watch what my father fought so hard for go to that usurper.” He glowered at the two men across from him. “I’ve been told that he’s a pathetic-looking man, short and bald and…” He shook his head. “People just don’t have any taste these days.”

     Erik, Ragnar’s oldest son, put the horse he had been whittling from a small piece of wood down next to him on the bench and walked up to his father with a determined look in his eyes. Fond memories swept over Ingvar. Erik looked so much like Ragnar had at that age. 

     “I’ll go with you, father,” Erik said. “Together we’ll win back the throne of Denmark.”

     “Certainly, Erik,” Ragnar said absentmindedly as he patted his son on his short blond hair. “And now go and play with your little brother.”

     Erik’s hand shot out and pinched Ragnar’s arm so hard that it produced a yelp from his father. “I will not.”

     “You little rascal,” Ragnar roared at him.

     Unfazed by his father’ wrath Erik crossed his arms over his chest and pointed a defiant chin at him. “I want to fight. You yourself gave me a sword for my name day,” he reminded Ragnar. “It’s time I use it.”

     Ragnar’s looked at Herraud. “Would you please tell your grandson that he’s only seven years old and therefore much too young for warring.”

     Herraud got out from behind the table and walked around to where his grandson was standing. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Erik, you’re only seven years old and therefore much too young for warring.”

     Erik dug a heel into his grandfather’s foot. “Mind your own business, you old goat.”

***

Ladgerda looked expectantly at her father, Earl Godi. “So are the rumours true?” Hard as she tried she couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. She didn’t want to appear too eager. After all there was no love lost between her father and his former son-in-law. In fact not a day went by without Earl Godi cursing Ragnar Lodbrok for having left Ladgerda after only a year of matrimony, a shame he found hard to live down.

      Godi closed the door after himself and walked into his magnificent hall where colourful tapestries from the most renown Viking weavers graced the walls. “It’s true all right,” he said with a disparaging wrinkle of his crooked nose, a result of it being broken too many times during the numerous raids he had participated in in his younger years. “The oaf is busy trying to procure a fleet so he can wrest the kingdom of Denmark away from Harald Hairless.” He unfastened the big filigreed round silver broach which held his cloak together at his shoulder. After having removed the cloak he draped it over the end of the table where Ladgerda was sitting. Grumbling something underneath his breath she couldn’t make out he sank down on a stool in front of the hearth and held the palms of his hands towards the flames to warm them.

     One of the house slaves hurried over to him and offered him a drinking horn brimming with ale, which Godi seized and downed the contents in one long swallow. Afterwards he wiped his mouth in his sleeve. 

      Ladgerda got up from the table, walked over to her father and sat down on the stool next to him. “You know well that the kingdom is rightfully Ragnar’s,” she said as she hooked her arm through his.  

     Her father’s eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “If you ask me, Denmark is far better off with Harald Hairless.”

     She pulled her arm from his. “You wouldn’t say that if it was’t because you dislike Ragnar so much.”

     Godi gave her a wry smile. “Dislike is such an inadequate word, my pet. Loathe expresses my feelings so much better.”

     “From what I hear, Harald Hairless is the one who’s loathsome,” Ladgerda said.

      A gleam came into Godi’s eyes. “My understanding is that the present king of Denmark is without a wife. It would be a match worth contemplating considering your advanced age.”

     Ladgerda shot up from the stool so fast that it turned over. She glared down at her father. “I’m quite certain that Harald Hairless is not the kind of man I’m looking for.”

     “He snorted. “May I remind you that your choice for a favourable match is fast dwindling.”

     Ladgerda’s jaw clenched. Lately all her father seemed to talk about was her diminishing prospects when it came to a new husband. Once he had even called her an old woman. At twenty-seven she didn’t feel old. She viewed herself as a woman in her prime with a sexual appetite that was not being fed, but she wanted the right man and she knew who that was. Ladgerda wanted Ragnar back now his wife, Thora, was gone. 

     “So has Ragnar assembled a fleet?” she asked swallowing her anger.

     “You remember Skarp Hedin?” Earl Godi asked.

     Ladgerda nodded. “The chieftain from Jaularness who married Njal’s widow.”

     Her father nodded. “I just talked to him and he told me that he would be surprised if Ragnar’s fleet even numbered fifty ships and by now he has pretty much exhausted all venues.” His expression carried great satisfaction. “Not showing his face in Denmark for so long, “he continued, “has hurt him sorely. The Jutlanders have deserted him and the Skanians and Zeelanders view him with great suspicion. I’ve been told that Guthorm is the only earl who has thrown his full support behind Ragnar.”

     “Fifty ships,” Ladgerda blurted out. “That’s not nearly enough.”

      Godi smiled broadly at her. “Seems that Ragnar lost his chance.” He nodded firmly. “Serves him right.” 

     “Unless…” she muttered feeling a great excitement built inside her.     

     “Unless what?” Godi asked, his voice full of trepidation. 

     “Unless someone provides him with the rest of the ships that he needs.” Ladgerda’s heart fluttered inside her chest like a happy little bird as she realized that the plan she had just devised might yet again bring her into Ragnar’s embrace. Granted he might not be as willing as the first time, but she had great confidence that she would eventually sway him. And her father had no say over the vast fortune her mother had left her as an inheritance.

***      

Ingvar looked up from the game of Hefnatafl he was playing with Ragnar. Judging from his morose expression Ragnar wasn’t enjoying the board game nearly as much as Ingvar was.

     The door opened and one of the house slaves hurried inside the hall. “You have visitors, Master,” he said to Ragnar, who promptly put down the playing piece he had been about to move over the checkered board, and turned to the slave. “Visitors?” There was a certain apprehension in his voice.” He glanced at Ingvar. “Who might that be?”

    Ingvar shrugged in answer.

     Ragnar gestured at the slave to leave. “Well, don’t just stand there. Bring them inside.” He swept the playing pieces off the board with his hand, scooped them up and dropped them into a small wooden box. He closed the lid with a snap.

      Over Ragnar’s shoulder, Ingvar saw Ladgerda sweep into the hall with her usual entourage of trusted attendants. Among them, Ingvar recognized Hulda. With her narrow pointed features she resembled a weasel. Ingvar remembered that Ladgerda had always treated Hulda more as a trusted friend than the lowly slave she was, taking a certain delight in Hulda’s devious ever suspicious mind.

    Ragnar gasped as he turned his head and saw his ex-wife. He shot up from his seat. “What are you doing here?”

    Ladgerda smiled sweetly at him. “Why the shocked face, my dear? I would have expected a more cheerful welcome after all these years.” She hurried over to Ragnar with her arms outstretched. “How is my little warrior?” She swept him up in a vigorous embrace that made him gasp again, this time for air. “I’ve missed your more than words can describe, my dear.”

     Since Ingvar had never gotten along with Ladgerda he was reasonably sure that she was not to going to greet him with the same enthusiasm which he was grateful for. Hulda, he noticed, was studying him with open  dislike. He glared back at her which didn’t deter the slave one bit.

     The rest of Ladgerda’s entourage seemed mostly interested in the food still left on the table from Ragnar and Ingvar’s midday meal. 

     Ragnar looked immensely relieved when Ladgerda finally let go of him. She sat down on the bench and patted the space next to her. “Sit down, my dear.” Still looking rather dumbfounded Ragnar scooted in next to her on the bench. “I heard about Thora—I’m so sorry for your loss,” Ladgerda added as she placed a hand on his thigh.

     Ingvar didn’t think she looked sorry at all.

     “Thora…Thora was a wonderful woman,” Ragnar said.

     Ladgerda gave his thigh a squeeze. “I’m sure she was.” 

     “She was so beautiful, and so wise and caring.”

     Ladgerda’s smile stiffened. “Enough of that now,” she said as she abruptly removed her hand from his thigh. “We’ve business matters to discuss, you and I.” She looked toward her companions who were fidgeting about, except Hulda, who was still staring darkly at Ingvar. “Can’t you see that the table is set, so eat.”

     They didn’t have to be told twice. They scrambled to the table and soon small fights ensued as they grabbed for the same morsels.

    “You can eat too, Hulda,” Ladgerda said.

     The slave shook her head. “I’ll eat later. I want to be part of the dealings you have with these two.” She said her eyes narrowing.

     Ragnar jumped up. “I refuse to have a mere slave be privy to my business.”

     Ladgerda frowned up at him. “I trust Hulda more than anyone.”

    Ragnar folded his arms over his broad chest. “Well, I don’t.”  Hulda’s pale lips became an thin angry line as she scowled at him. He pointed at her. “See the way she looks at me?”

     Ladgerda gave an exasperated sigh. “As you can see, Hulda,” she told the slave. “Ragnar has become quite irate. Be a dear and join the others.”

     Ingvar stole a glance at his friend. Why did Ragnar allow anyone to speak to him in such a disrespectful manner? His recent setbacks had obviously affected his sense of pride.

     “Hulda, do as I say,” Ladgerda said curtly when the slave didn’t make a move. If there was one thing Ladgerda didn’t tolerate it was people who ignored her requests.

      Only reluctantly did Hulda move down the table to where the other slaves were gorging themselves. Here she armed herself with a chicken leg which she started tearing at with her small pointy teeth.

     Ingvar who had been preoccupied with the interaction between mistress and slave was surprised to suddenly see Ladgerda’s eyes trained on him. “I want him to leave too,” she told Ragnar as she nodded at Ingvar.

      Ragnar shook his head. “Ingvar is my trusted friend and blood brother. I want him to be here.”

      Ladgerda placed her arms on the table and leaned toward Ingvar. “I never liked, much less trusted you,” she told him.

     Ingvar was about to retort, but Ragnar beat him to it. “Ingvar stays, otherwise you and I have nothing to talk about.”

      She straightened up. “You’re being stubborn, Ragnar,” she grumbled. “If you only knew the proposition I’m about to put forward you wouldn’t be so pigheaded.”

     “I said he stays.”

     Finally, Ladgerda gave a shrug. “I just now remembered what I liked best about you, Ragnar— aside from the obvious reasons,” she added with a smile playing on her lips. “Your unwavering loyalty to the people you have faith in whether they deserve it or not.” Being Ladgerda she of course couldn’t resist this little barb.

      “Why don’t you just spit out with what you came here to say,” Ragnar asked with impatience running through his words. “It must obviously be very important since you traveled all this way.”

      Ladgerda slapped the palm of her hand so hard down on the table that one of the metal plates jumped off and bounced across the floor, which momentarily interrupted her companions’ eating frenzy. “Being rude does not get you anywhere with me, Ragnar.” The slaves realizing her ire had’t been directed at them resumed their eating.

     “That’s the whole point,” Ragnar snapped. “I don’t want to get anywhere with you.”

     Ladgerda rose from the table. Ingvar had to admit that she looked formidable in her anger with her nose flaring and her lips tightening. Her eyes flashed at Ragnar as she pulled up her skirt and stepped over the bench. “You always were one to speak in haste.” She flipped her cloak over her shoulder. “I guess you won’t be needing my fifty ships then.”

     Silence fell over the room. Even her entourage stopped their chewing and stared at her. Ingvar noticed how Ragnar’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. He realized himself that his mouth had dropped and quickly closed it.

     “Fifty ships!” Ragnar could barely get the words out. 

     Ladgerda signalled at her companions that it was time for them to take their leave.

     “How could you possibly get your hands on so many ships?” Ragnar asked.

     “What does it matter to you since you just said you won’t deal with me any further.” With a pointed look at him she strode toward the door.

     Ragnar scrambled after her and seized her by the shoulder. “Now wait just a moment. There’s no reason that we can’t sit down and talk about this.”

     She turned to him and viewed him with a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “I know well that you have exhausted all other venues by now.” She moved her face close to his. “I’m your last hope, Ragnar. Without my help Denmark will be lost to Harald Hairless.”

     Ragnar’s jaw clenched. “I want to know why you would help me. Last time I saw you you cursed me out, calling me a miserable excuse for a man.”

      Ladgerda squared her shoulders. “Well, you were at the time. You left me to be ridiculed by others.”

      “You threw me out.”

     Ladgerda stamped her foot. “You were supposed to come back, you oaf.”

     “Why don’t we discuss the ships,” Ingvar quickly intercepted. He could already see Ragnar and Ladgerda’s conversation turn into one of those drag-out fights he had witnessed far too many times during the year the two were married.

     Ragnar swallowed the embittered words about to escape him and nodded. “You’re quite right, my friend. This constant strife is a waste of time.” He gave Ladgerda a stern look. “I would have expected you to have grown up a bit during these past eight years.”

    Ladgerda glared at him. “Likewise. It’s beyond me how Thora could stand being around you for that long.”

     Ragnar’s face turned red. “Have you no shame, woman.”

     “Stop it you two,” Ingvar said.

     “Don’t you dare raise your voice like that to Ladgerda,” Hulda bristled at him.

     Ingvar felt a vein throb in his left temple. “Enough, you two,” he hollered. The aftermath of this outburst resulted in a dead quiet from the people assembled. Aside from the crackling of the fires on the two big hearths in the hall nothing could be heard, not even a breath. He looked around him and saw the shocked faces.

     At last Ragnar laughed somewhat nervously. “You seem rather vexed, my friend.”

     Ingvar took a deep breath to calm himself. “Of course I’m vexed. You two are wasting your time on petty squabbles while Denmark is enduring the leadership of an incompetent ruler.” He felt drained and recognized it as the feeling that he always had when he was around Ragnar and Ladgerda.

     Ladgerda shot Ingvar an incensed look. “You have no right to speak to us in such a disrespectful manner, you scoundrel. I will…”

    “Fifty ships, you say?” Ragnar quickly interjected in an obvious effort to avert one of Ladgerda’s famous temper tantrums that wouldn’t bode well for the furnishings of Earl Herraud’s magnificent hall.

     Ladgerda tore her gaze away from Ingvar. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it,” she snapped at Ragnar.

     “And what about men?” he asked.

    “I can man twenty of them,” she said. “The rest is up to you.”

     Ragnar bit his lower lip as he contemplated her offer. “Well, that might be a problem.” He looked hopefully at her. “You see, I’ve trouble finding men, so if you…” His voice trailed when he saw her shake her head. 

     “As I just said I’ll supply the ships and men to man twenty of them,” she said. “The rest is up to you.”    

     After some hesitation Ragnar nodded. “Fair enough. As it is, you’ve already been more than generous.” He looked at her. “How will I ever be able to repay you for helping me out in this my hour of need.”

     “I only have one small favour to ask in return,” she said, batting her long eyelashes at him.

      Ragnar watched her warily. Ingvar knew why. Ladgerda never entertained small favours. 

     She came over and took Ragnar’s hand in hers. “I want to accompany you,” she said playing with his fingers, “and Hulda of course.”

      Ragnar abruptly pulled his hand from hers. “Out of the question.”

     Ingvar closed his eyes in exasperation. He wished that his friend had taken time to rethink his strategy which wasn’t going to sit well with a stubborn woman like Ladgerda.  

      “You’re in no position to deny me,” Ingvar heard Ladgerna say. “It’s but a small favour to ask for all my help.”

     Ingvar opened his eyes and saw the desperate look Ragnar was sending him. He cleared his throat. “What Ragnar is really trying to say is that a journey like the one he’s about to undertake is full of perils for a woman.” 

     Ragnar nodded eagerly. “Exactly.”

     Ladgerda squared her shoulders. “You both seem to conveniently having forgotten that I was once a shield-maiden. You’ve never saw me shy away from danger. Never did I wince when I saw entrails creep across a battlefield like so many glistening snakes.” She looked hard at Ragnar. “May I also remind you that I was always in the forefront when fighting.     

     Ingvar and Ragnar exchanged a quick glance. Finally, Ragnar cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well, that was some years ago. You’ve…well, you’ve filled out a bit…a lot…somewhat… since that time.”

     Ladgerda breathed sharply. “I’ve matured is all. I’m a woman in my prime.”

***

Ragnar let out a groan when he saw Ladgerda approach. Aside from Hulda she was also bringing five other slaves, all of them loaded down with her belongings.

     She smiled and waved when she caught sight of him. “I’m all ready,” she hollered.

     Ragnar quickly covered the distance between him, Ladgerda and the loaded down slaves. “We’re not planning to be away from years, you know,” he told her.

     “You never know what hardships you might encounter on a voyage like this so I come prepared.” She pointed at the biggest ship in the fleet which lay mored close to the inlet’s  shore. The ship was called the Sea Serpent and it was Ragnar’s pride and joy. It had been given to him by Earl Herraud and held an elite fighting force of sixty men. “Is that the ship I’ll be on?”

     Frowning Ragnar shook his head. “That’s my ship.”

     Ladgerda raised her eyebrows as she turned to Hulda. “How soon he forgets.”

     With grim expression on her face Hulda nodded.

     Ladgerda began to wave her slaves by. “Hurry up, bring everything out to that ship.” She pointed at the Sea Serpent. In a single file they trudged over the rocky beach towards the water’s edge.

     Satisfied that they were well on their way Ladgerda turned to Ragnar again. “Did you find your warriors?”

     He nodded. “Yes, I did, but unfortunately I was forced to take men no one else wanted. A lot of them are not very skilled in weaponry, I’m afraid.” He sighed in frustration. “To be truthful this is the worst fighting force I’ve ever been in charge of. I’ll likely be laughed out of Denmark.”

     Ladgerda reached out her hand and patted his arm reassuringly. “I’ve never known you to lack faith in your own abilities. You’ll whip them into shape soon enough.”

       In her eyes Ragnar only read sympathy. It moved him and made him acutely aware of how much he missed Thora. “I’ve never faced such a daunting challenge as this.”

     “Everything will work itself out, you’ll see.”

     Ragnar watched Ladgerda turn around and stride after her slaves. He glanced at Ingvar who had just come over to him. “Maybe I’ve misjudged her.”

     Ingvar snorted. “That woman is as crafty as they come.” He furrowed his brow as he looked at Ragnar. “Now you remember to keep your wits about you when it comes to her, so she doesn’t catch you in her net again.”

    Ragnar draped his arm around Ingvar’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze before he let go. “As always you’re right, my friend. My sentimental nature tends to get the better of me.” He viewed the hustle and bustle on the beach. “So what do you think about all this?” 

      When he turned to Ingvar he saw his friend shrug. “The ships are sound enough. It’s their crews I’m worried about.

     Ragnar scratched the back of his neck. There was good reason to feel worried. Only the night before he had had to break up several drunken brawls among the men. This was far different from the loyalty and discipline Ragnar was accustomed too from his warriors on other expeditions. Despite what Ladgerda said there was no time to whip them into shape. Harald Hairless had taken up headquarters at Hleidar, the royal seat, and surrounded himself with elite fighters. 

     Ragnar, realizing that his skin where he was scratching was becoming raw, let his arm sink to his side. Yes, he was indeed facing his biggest challenge ever. Aside from Herraud’s and Ladgerda’s trained forces he was surrounded by a roque army who would rather follow their own quest for instant gratification than listening to a leader they barely knew. 

     Ragnar squared his shoulders. “Let’s board the ship, Ingvar. It looks like they’ve finally finished the loading.”

     Ingvar nodded his agreement. “May Thor grant us a speedy voyage and a successful battle.”

     They had reached the seashore and were about to wade through the shallow water to the Sea Serpent when Ragnar felt a hard tug at the back of his cloak. He turned and looked down into Erik’s small officious face. His son was clad as a warrior wearing his cloak and leather cap. A sword was strapped to his side and he had an ax tucked behind a broad belt, a large double-edged battle ax, that looked suspiciously like one that belonged to his grandfather. 

     Erik proudly held his head high. “I’m ready.”

     Ragnar frowned at him. “I already told you that you’re not going.”

     Erik’s expression became defiant. “I too want to fight Harald Hairless.” His small hand enclosed the hilt of his sword. “I’ve practiced my fighting skills all week.”

     “You’re too young.”

     Erik scowled at him. “You don’t seem to get it. Denmark is mine to lose too.”

     Pride mixed with irritation as Ragnar put his hand on his son’t short blond hair. “In some years I’ll be proud to have you fight by my side.”

     Erik spat on the sand. “In some years the scurvy might have gotten me for all I know. I want to fight now.”

     Ragnar abruptly removed his hand from his son’s head. “I’ve no patience for this.” He pointed  inland. “Now go play with your brother.”

     Erik, with an agility perfected over the years of his young life, kicked Ragnar across his shin. 

Ragnar sucked in air as pain shot through his leg. “You’re an old fool,” were Erik’s parting words as he quickly dashed out of his father’s reach.

***

Harald Hairless scratched his bald head, something he always did when he was nervous. Harald’s closest counsel, Earl Heidi, a lean, sombre looking, middle-aged man, had called the meeting of Denmark’s most influential earls together. Harald sensed that something was seriously amiss as his eyes darted over the faces around the table. No one was smiling, not even the massive muscular earl, Bjarki, who was usually so silly that Harald had come to suspect that he wasn’t right in his head.

     Harald gave a start, when Hedi, who was sitting next to him on the bench, cleared his throat. “What we feared most, I’m afraid, has happened.” He looked seriously at the faces around him. “A large fleet has been spotted northeast of Zealand. My spies just informed me that it was Ragnar Lodbrok.”

     “Ragnar Lodbrok, are you sure?” Earl Rieger viewed Hedi with scepticism. He was an ancient looking man with a beaked nose. Only a few wisps of grey hair were able to sustain life on his pink scalp. 

     Hedi nodded. “I fully understand your disbelief.” He leaned back in his seat. “What can I say.” He shrugged. “Somehow Ragnar has managed to procure enough ships to try to mount an invasion, even though it baffles me greatly how he acquired so many. As far as I know only Earl Guthorm has thrown his support behind him.”

     At the mention of the name murmurs of disapproval rose among the twenty or so men seated around the large round oak table.

     “Earl Guthorm is a traitor.” Anger was colouring the ruddy cheeks of Earl Thormod, a young norseman who had only just joined the ranks of the influential Danes around the table after his father had died tragically at the hands of his slaves.

     Rieger’s pale blue eyes settled on the young man. “It’s a man’s right to throw his support behind the person he deems to be the best choice.”

      Feeling that he had to put his two cents worth in, he was after all the king, Harald nodded his agreement. “It’s a time honoured tradition that a man…” he began, then paused when Thormod stood up abruptly. Supporting his sturdy frame on arms where muscles rippled underneath the tanned skin, he leaned over the table glaring at Harald who shrank from his fierce blue eyes. “We’re dealing with politics here, not honour.” Thormod’s voice took on an air of disdain. “It’s time to join the tenth century, King Harald.”

     Hedi shot out of his seat. “How dare you address King Harald in such a disrespectful manner.” He glared at Thormod across the table. “What do you know about running the affairs of a kingdom, anyway, you miserable upstart.”

     Thormod flopped back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “I know enough to get rid of whomever threatens this country’s stability.”

     Harald’s hand moved towards his scalp but the look Hedi shot made him resist the urge to scratch. Apparently this nervous habit of his was a source of great irritation to the earl. He let his hand sink down in his lab and instead cleared his throat. “I think…” Harald cleared his throat yet again when his voice came out feebly. Hedi had told him often enough that he had to put conviction behind his words, otherwise people wouldn’t respect him. He deliberately made his voice deeper this time. “I think we should pay more heed to what Earl Thormod says. I’ve been told that Earl Guthorm is trying to sway other earls to join forces with him and Ragnar Lodbrok.” By the way a few of the earls at the table squirmed Harald knew his information to be correct.

     Rieger’s gaze fixed themselves on Harald. “Who told you this?”

     Harald fidgeted in his seat. “Well, Aud did.”

     “You pay far too much attention to what Aud says.” Hedi’s voice was icy.

     Harald surveyed the faces around the table with what he hoped was an air of authority. “May I remind you that it was because of Aud that I’m now the ruler of this country.”

     Surprised looks met Harald. Before any of the earls had time to voice their confusion, Hedi shot up from his chair, grabbed hold of Harald’s arm, dragged him from his seat and out of the room. He slammed the door shut behind them and spun around facing Harald. 

     The urge became irresistible for Harald. His hand went for his scalp where he started scratching until it stung.

     “Are you out of your mind?” Hedi hissed at him. “Only you and I know that Aud poisoned Siward. A lot of earls in there,” he pointed a shaky finger at the closed door to the counsel chamber, “respected Siward greatly. If they get wind that you had anything to do with his demise they won’t hesitate to kill you.”

     Harald gulped as his finger found a new spot to scratch.

     “And stop that, you idiot.” Hedi slapped Harald’s hand away from his scalp and shook his head at him. “I’m beginning to think that choosing you as the new king was a mistake. If it hadn’t been for your illustrious line of noble ancestors I wouldn’t even have considered you.” He took a deep breath closing his eyes as he did so. “But it’s too late now.” He opened his eyes again and fixed Harald with his stare. “We’re both now in this for the duration, but from now on you listen carefully to what I have to say. One mistake and I’ll make sure you’ll be fodder for the worms.”

He turned and put a hand on the door handle to the counsel chamber. “And now let’s go in there and extract you from the snake pit you’ve thrown yourself into.” 

     Hedi opened the door.

     Several of the earls in the room got up from the table. 

     “What did you mean by what you just said, King Harald?” Rieger asked. “Why is Aud, the sorceress, the reason you’re now in power?”

     A disconcerted murmur rose from the other men.

     Thormod viewed the king with knitted eyebrows. “Yes, why?”

     Harald noticed Hedi’s hand close around his sword hilt. 

     “Well, Aud was the one who pointed out that King Harald was a direct descendent of King Godfred and therefore a worthy contender for the throne,” Hedi quickly informed the others. 

     “Siward’s father, Sigurd Ring won the throne from King Horik fair and square,” Rieger said.

     The other earls nodded.

     “Both Sigurd Ring and Siward were good kings,” Rieger continued as he leaned back in his seat and viewed Hedi with his nearsighted eyes. “It saddened me greatly when I heard about Siward’s untimely death.”

      Thormod stroked his beard. “It does make me wonder about Ragnar Lodbrok.” He exchanged a quick glance with Rieger. “With Sigurd Ring’s blood running through his veins he might not be such a poor choice for a king after all.”

     His gaze not leaving Hedi for a moment Rieger cleared his throat. “Ragnar has fought many hard battles, successfully so I may add, and he is known to be both cunning and brave.”

      Bjarki smiled broadly. “Did you all hear about the time Ragnar Lodbrog fought in Permland and it was…”

     “Does anyone here even know what Ragnar Lodbrog looks like,” Hedi, whose face by now had grown red from anger, rudely interrupted him. Big droplets of perspiration pearled on his forehead. 

     Looking at each other several of the men shook their heads. 

     “That’s right, you don’t because Ragnar never shows his face here. That’s how much he treasures this country.” Hedi’s gaze wandered across the group. His voice softened as he continued. “We all know the feeling we get when we catch sight of Danish shores after a long sea voyage.” He looked directly at Thormod. “Doesn’t your heart swell then with such pride that it feels like it might burst? Isn’t that the love a man must harbour for his country of birth?” 

     With tears glistening in his eyes Thormod swallowed hard and nodded. 

     Hedi’s attention turned to Rieger who was sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest. Judging from his expression he wasn’t buying into Heidi’s sojourn into sentimentality, but Hedi undauntedly went on. “That’s called patriotism, Earl Rieger, and Ragnar Lodbrok clearly doesn’t feel it.” 

     Harald wasn’t sure because it was done so covertly, but he thought that he detected Rieger doing an eye roll.  

     Hedi put an arm around Harald’s shoulders. “King Harald Hairless knows that feeling. This is the country he was born in and so deep is his love for Denmark that he can’t bear to lose sight of its shores for a moment.” Tears of pain sprang to Harald’s eyes when Hedi clutched his shoulders hard . “Now I ask you, who would you rather have rule this great country of ours?”

     Harald’s fingers itched to scratch his scalp again, but Hedi’s strong arm around his shoulders prevented him for giving in to his urge. Instead he stared at Rieger waiting for his reaction. Harald’s dislike for the ancient earl was slowly turning into a burning hate. If anyone was going to put Harald’s precarious hold on power at risk it would be Rieger.

    The old earl smiled wryly at Hedi. “Well, right now Ragnar Lodbrog is sitting out there in Kattegat with an invasion fleet so I would say he’s showing some interest.”

    Hedi’s arm around Harald’s shoulders tightened so much that Harald couldn’t hold back a gasp. He tried to wiggle his way out from the earl’s grasp, but to no avail.

     Hedi’s voice was terse when he responded to Rieger’s comment. “All Ragnar Lodbrok cares about is the riches he can amass for himself. He won’t hesitate to bleed you all dry and leave your empty carcasses.” He glared at the assembled men in turn. “King Harald need your assurance that he has your full support in repelling this menace from our shores.” 

     To Harald’s immense relief Hedi finally let go of him. 

     “So does the king have your full support?” Hedi asked.

     Most of the men nodded. “And does he have your full support, Earl Rieger?” Hedi gave the old man a penetrating look.

     Harald detected a great reluctance in Rieger when he finally nodded his acquiescence.

***

Ragnar Lodbrok’s heart swelled as he looked toward the shimmering green shores of his birthplace. It had been a long time since he had been back. Far too long. His strict and uncompromising father, fed up with his youngest son’s wild ways, had sent Ragnar out of the country when he was only fourteen to avoid further embarrassment at the court. After that numerous raids and his two marriages had kept Ragnar busy outside Denmark. Still sore over his father’s rejection Ragnar hadn’t even shown up to his funeral years ago. Since he was treated like an outcast he had been determined not to show his father the respect befitting a son. 

     Ragnar now realized that he should have shown up to the funeral to give himself that last opportunity to try to forgive.

     Ingvar walked over to him. “You’re not going to like what I have to tell you.”

     Since Ragnar hated to be interrupted when he was immersed in reflections he had a hard time keeping the irritation out of his voice. “What now?”

     “Earl Guthorm found Erik hiding among the provisions on his ship.”

     With eyes flashing Ragnar spun around and faced Ingvar. “That little scoundrel and now it’s too late to turn back. Just wait until I get my hands on him.” He rolled his eyes toward the clear-blue sky. “First I have to contend with Ladgerda, and now Erik.” He groaned. “What am I, a nursemaid, and speaking of Ladgerda where is she?”

      Ingvar nodded in the direction of the ship’s stern where Ragnar spotted Ladgerda hanging over the railing. “I’m afraid she hasn’t found her sea-legs yet,” Ingvar informed him. “She’s been sick since the moment we lifted anchor.”   

     Ragnar shook his head in disdain. “The ocean is as calm as I’ve ever seen it.”

     Ingvar shrugged. “Some people just don’t have the stomachs for sea voyages.”

     “Well, I better see if there’s something I can do to help her,” Ragnar said as he began making his way between the men and provisions filling the deck of the ship. He reached her just after she had finished throwing up. “Any better?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.

     Ladgerda turned a green-hued face towards him. “Does it look like I’m feeling any better?” She leaned over the railing again. Ragnar, feeling awkward, leaned over and patted her on the back.

     “Will you stop that, you fool,” she croaked.

     He quickly removed his hand. “I wish there was something I could do to ease your misery, I really do.”

     She went through a couple of dry heaves and then began coughing.

     Hulda, vigilant as ever, wiped her mistress’ mouth with a kerchief.

     Ladgerda looked up at Ragnar. “Actually there is something you could do for me,” she said between coughs. “Put to shore. Can’t you see that I’m dying.”

    Ragnar shook his head. “I can’t do that,” he said feeling resentful over the mere suggestion. “We’re not exactly on a Grikkland cruise. This is enemy territory.”

      “I want to feel solid ground under my feet again,” she wailed.

      “It would be an act of folly to make landfall now.”

      Ladgerda’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed. “No, what would be an act of folly is to deny me my wish.” She struggled to stand up. “After all I could return home and take all my ships with me.”

***

“I’m worried about Earl Rieger,” Harald Hairless said.

     He and Hedi were standing in Harald’s private quarters, the biggest hall in the immense Hleidar compound. The gold thread woven into the magnificent tapestries covering the walls glimmered in the firelight coming from the two large central hearths.

     Hedi nodded as he stroked his goatee with his lean bony hand. “I too admit that I find him to be a troublesome player in this game.” 

     The deep frustration Harald felt made the tears of disappointment and frustration rise to his eyes. “I’m certain the others have started listening to his dissident talk. Did you notice how Bjarki hung on his every word. And here I thought that he was my staunchest ally.” He watched as Hedi, with his hands clasped behind his back, began to pace the floor. It was an exercise that soon made Harald feel dizzy.  

     “If Earl Rieger sways someone like Thormod we’re truly in trouble because the younger men look up to him.” Hedi finally stopped his pacing at one of the hearths and stared into the flames. “We don’t need any dissent now that Ragnar Lodbrok is this close to Hleidar,” he added.

     Harald cleared his throat. “We could have Aud take care of Earl Rieger like she took care of King Siward.”

     Hedi spun toward him. “I don’t want you to use Aud anymore.” He stormed over to Harald and seized hold of the front of his tunic bringing his face close to his. “Do you understand?”

     Harald tried to pull Hedi’s hand from the fabric of his tunic, but the earl was too strong. “I know she won’t talk if we provide her with enough silver.” 

     Harald could smell the ale on the earl’s breath as he pulled him even closer. “Get rid of her,” he hissed into his face. “I don’t want that hag hanging around Hleidar anymore.” He finally let go of Harald, who quickly backed away from his ugly look.

***

Aud closed the door quietly behind her. Harald Hairless was the only other person in the hall. He looked morose as he sat there in front of the hearth poking through the embers with a long gnarled oak stick. Again she was caught by the irony of the fact that this insignificant creature was now the king of Denmark. It was beyond her how he could possibly command respect from anything else than maybe a flea, but then of course, she knew well that Earl Hedi, an unscrupulous, greedy man, was the real power behind the new change in leadership. She couldn’t help smirking. Poor Hedi who had risen from a humble background and therefore didn’t have the ancestral line to take the throne for himself and was hence forced to act from behind the scenes as he had attempted to mold this sorry excuse of a man into taking on this powerful position that he himself yearned so much for.

     Harald gave a start when he looked up and saw her. “I didn’t hear you come in, Aud. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t heed my summons.”

     “I had matters to tend to,” she said as she watched Harald put the stick down and get up from the stool. As always he looked ill at ease in her presence and as always this amused Aud. She enjoyed seeing him squirm.

     Harald’s hand trembled visibly as he extended it to her. On his palm rested a heavy-looking leather pouch. “This is your last payment. Your services are no longer needed around here.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You are to return home.”

     Aud smelled Earl Hedi behind her sudden dismissal. As soon as she had helped dispose of King Siward, he no longer found her of use.

     Harald flinched as Aud walked up close to him. With her steady gaze on him she put a halt to the skittish movements of his eyes. “Right now, King Harald, you have Ragnar Lodbrok’s fleet sitting just north of Zealand waiting for the opportunity to make landfall. Considering the present discontent among the noblemen of this country, Ragnar might have an easy task in ousting you.” With satisfaction she noticed that the blood had drained from the king’s face. “When he finds you he’ll show you no mercy. You’re sure to die a slow painful death.” He let out a gasp. “Believe me when I say, King Harald, that you still need me” Aud lowered her voice to a near whisper. “You need me more than you need Earl Hedi or any of those other incompetents.”

      “What am I to do,” he whined.

      Aud snatched the pouch from his hand noting with gratification that it was indeed heavy. “First I take this as payment for services already rendered and then we’ll figure out a satisfactory compensation for my help in wrecking havoc on Ragnar Lodbrok’s fleet. As long as he doesn’t set foot on these shores you still stand a chance when it comes to keeping a hold on this kingdom, a kingdom that you fought so hard for.”

     Harald nodded eagerly. “What do you plan to do, Aud?”

     She dropped the pouch down into the purse strapped across her shoulder that she always carried. “I’ve been known to influence the elements.” She put an hand on Harald’s arm and felt him recoil under her touch. “The weather has been far too nice lately, don’t you think?”

     Eyes wide, Harald nodded.

***

Ragnar’s ship glided up next to Guthorm’s. The Earl walked up to the railing. “This is highly irregular, Ragnar.” His gaze wandered towards land, which could now be discerned as thin grey line along the horizon. “They have spies watching us as we speak. I know Earl Hedi’s suspicious nature all too well.” He looked at Ragnar again. “If you make landfall now you’re going to set yourself up as an easy target.”

     Ragnar turned his head and glimpsed Ladgerda’s backside as she again hung over the railing, retching. Hulda stood guard over her. With arms folded over her flat chest she viewed Ragnar with distrust.

     With a sigh he turned his attention to Guthorm again. “I know we’re taking a chance, but Ladgerda insists.” He frowned. “I don’t like having a woman dictate to me what I should or should not do, but she’s threatening to leave with her ships if I don’t put to shore.”

     Guthorm shook his head. “It’s indeed a sad day when a woman tells a warrior what to do.” He again looked toward land. Seagulls shrieked overhead waiting for the men to throw morsels overboard from the midday meal they had just devoured. “There’s a big cove just south of here which should easily accommodate our ships,” he said. “We’ll overnight there. Most of the men will probably welcome an opportunity to finally have some hot food.”

     Ragnar stretched his neck scanning the deck of the Guthorm’s ship.

     “Erik still doesn’t want to see you,” the earl told him.

    “Where is he?”

     Guthorm shrugged. “Probably hiding,” he said. “He’s afraid that you’re going to beat him up.”

     Ragnar snorted. “That boy has a lively imagination.”

     There was rebuke in Guthorm’s eyes when he looked at him again. “Mind you, Ragnar, I too believe in disciplining the young ones, but this boy looks outright browbeaten.”

***

Harald Hairless scratched again. By now the skin on his scalp was covered with numerous scabs. “What are you doing?” he asked Aud.

      The sorceress didn’t answer him as she threw more wood on the already immense pile in front of them.

     Impatiently, Harald tapped her on her shoulder.

     She gave such a start that he reckoned that he had woken her from some sort of trance, and from the look she bestowed him she clearly did not appreciate the interruption. “I already told you to leave me alone. This requires all my concentration and your constantly breaking it with your foolish questions.” She bent over and picked up some more wood.

     “You’re not thinking of setting this whole pile on fire?” Harald asked. “People will be able to see the smoke from far away.” He scratched so vigorously in one spot that his finger came away bloody. “Earl Hedi will have a fit if he finds out that I didn’t dismiss you after all.”

     “You want my help or not?” Aud threw more wood on the pile in front of them. “Well, do you?” she asked when he didn’t answer.

     She had pulled her shoulders up towards her ears like an angry boar ready to attack and the murderous look in her eyes made him recoil. All he could do was nod his acceptance.  

     “Then leave me be,” Aud hissed at him.

     About fifteen minutes later Harald watched as she crouched down next to the pile and began chanting in strange syllables while striking a flint against a fire steel. Sparks shot out and ignited the dry leaves and kindling she had added last to the pile.

     Harald was unable to contain himself any longer. Aud’s preparations and strange mood had left his stomach queasy. It was the same way he had felt when he had observed her mix the concoction that eventually would kill Siward. “How will you produce rain with fire?” He looked up at he clear-blue sky. “There isn’t a cloud around.”

     Aud’s head snapped in his direction. Her eyes glowed in the firelight. “I have powers you as a mere mortal can’t even begin to fathom.”

     Harald laughed nervously at this. “May I remind you that you’re a mere mortal too.” His throat constricted. “Well, aren’t you?”

     She didn’t answer as she again turned her attention to the fire. Her hair coloured orange in the light from the tall angry flames in front of her. Harald tried to swallow the lump that had jumped to his throat. She looked so…so otherworldly. With dread he watched her detach a small leather pouch from her belt. While chanting, she loosened the string and opened it. Now rocking back and forth on her haunches she dipped her hand into he pouch and pulled out what looked like sand which she promptly tossed into the fire. The flames hissed and sparked as they grew taller and taller until it looked like they touched the sky. 

     Aud rocked faster and faster while still chanting louder and louder.

    Harald jumped when a bright flash split the sky. In the distance he could hear the rolling of thunder.

***

Earl Guthorm walked over to Ragnar and Ingvar who were sitting next to each other at the fire. “Look.” He pointed to the south where a bank of steel-blue clouds were rapidly building up.

     Ragnar shook his head in frustration. “The sky was clear when we put in here.” 

     A deep rumble drowned out the boisterous voices of them men sitting around the fires enjoying a warm meal.

     Ladgerda sat down next to Ragnar and hooked her arm through his. She looked better now that the sickly green colour from her bout with seasickness had dissipated from her face. “Oh, I so hate thunderstorms.” She shrieked when lightening flashed across the sky in the horizon followed by more thunder.

     Ragnar felt someone push in between him and Ingvar and press up against his other side. He looked down and saw that Erik had now come out of hiding. Ragnar was about to give the boy a tongue-lashing regarding his sneaky ways but one look at his son’s frightened face made his swallow his words. Instead he reached out his arm and pulled the boy close. “You’ll be safe with me, Erik,” he assured him.

     Another bright flash illuminated the faces around the fire. 

     This time even the unshakeable Guthorm looked shaken. “Quite the storm,” he said as he pulled his cloak tighter about his broad frame.

     “I’m so…so scared,” Ladgerda whimpered in Ragnar’s ear. “Please hold me tight.”

     He pulled his arm out of her grasp and wrapped it around her shoulders. Across the fire he saw Hulda’s keen gaze follow his every move.

***

Harald Hairless dashed through the rain followed closely by Aud. He was in a near panic. He hated thunderstorms and the one Aud had just conjured up was by far the worst he had ever experienced.

     Lightening struck a tree next them. Wood splinters and embers flew around Harald’s head. He barely avoided a flaming branch of the tree as it plummeted to the ground behind him. He increased his speed. It took him a while before he realized that Aud was no longer following him. Reluctantly he stopped, turned and wiped the rain from his eyes. She was nowhere to be seen. 

     “Aud,” he yelled over the thunder. 

     There was no answer. 

     “Aud.” With his heart pounding in his chest Harald retraced his steps. He found her underneath the heavy branch which had very nearly hit him. He gasped when he bent over and looked at her face. Her normally smooth pale skin was now deeply wrinkled around her sunken eyes and the slack mouth where a trickle of blood ran from the corner. Her long dark hair was snow white.

     Harald turned his head and vomited on the soaked ground 

***

Earl Hedi was pacing the floor when Harald rushed into the hall with water dripping from his drenched clothes. 

     Hedi stopped abruptly when he caught sight of him. “Oh, there you are.”

     Harald was somewhat gratified to hear relief in the earl’s voice. In his present rattled state he needed all the sympathy he could get. “That storm it…it…” His voice shook so much he couldn’t continue.

     Hedi nodded grimly. “Yes, it’s the worst I’ve ever seen.” He walked up to Harald. “I thought you had perished out there.” Harald would have liked to hear a note of the worry for Harald’s safety Hedi had expressed in his voice before, but all he could discern was pure anger.

     “That storm…it…it…” Harald hiccupped. Tears were burning in his eyes and his stomach felt as hollow and empty as his soul. “Sorry, I…I’m cold.” He was shivering all over now from the cold rain and fear. 

   Hedi seized him by the elbow and led him to the hearth where he pushed him down on the bench in front of the brightly burning fire.

     Harald coughed and wiped his eyes. “It’s…it’s all Aud’s fault,” he stammered. “She lit a huge fire and then suddenly the thunder and lightening started.” He had to clamp down on his lower lip with his teeth to keep it from trembling.

    “Didn’t I tell you to get rid of Aud.”

     “You did,” he admitted. “But then…then she told me that I needed her services and…” he gave Hedi a woeful look, “and you know how I’ve always had a hard time saying no to her.”

    The earl sank down next to him on the bench. “Look at me, Harald.” Harald turned a tear streaked face toward him. “You’ve always been able to rely on me,” Hedi said. “From the very beginning I’ve stood by you.”

     “I know, I know,” Harald sniffled. “I’m sorry that I ever doubted your loyalty. You have to understand, Earl Hedi, that right after I was born my father left and my mother handed me over to nursemaids, my sisters and brothers despised and ridiculed me and my dog bit me and ran away.”  Recalling this last insult resulted in more tears.

     Hedi shook him.” Get a grip on yourself. Kings don’t give into such pitiful displays of emotion.”

     “Well, maybe I was not meant to be a ruthless and rigid ruler,” Harald hiccupped. “Maybe I want a kinder and gentler nation to rise from the ashes of all the deceit I’ve been part of.” He wiped his nose in his sleeve. “Maybe…maybe I just don’t wanna be king at all.”

     Hedi got up from his seat and slapped Harald hard over his bald head with the palm of his hand. “Now you listen to me, you fool, we’ve worked hard to get to where we are. ”He slapped him again. “If you ruin it now with your revolting self-pity, I’ll ram my sword up your rump at the first opportunity I get.”

     Harald shrank from him. He had never seen the earl this angry and it jarred him back to reality. Hedi was right, there was no way he could extract himself from this situation. He silently cursed the day the earl had shown up at his doorstep with his plan to seize the throne of Denmark. 

     “And now I’ll personally go out there and get rid of Aud,” Hedi said as he stormed to the door. “Where is she?”

     Harald gulped as the image of Aud pinned underneath the branch flooded his mind. “She’s…she’s dead.”

***

Ragnar spread his cloak over a rock so it could dry in the sun and sat down. Next to him Ingvar was busy trying to restart the fire, which was difficult because all the wood was wet. Ragnar looked up when he saw Guthorm approach.

     “I admit that I was not very friendly disposed to Ladgerda’s idea of making landfall, but now I’m glad she was so pigheaded,” Guthorm said as he stopped in front of Ragnar. “It would have been a disaster had we stayed out on the open sea during this storm.”

     Ragnar’s gaze wandered to Ladgerda, who was sitting on the sandy beach with her face turned toward the warm sun. The earl was right, she had saved their lives. He turned his attention the Guthorm again realizing how grateful he was to have him as an ally. He had proven himself an honest and reliable friend. Ragnar hesitated using the word friend since he had only known the earl for such a short while, but his never failing intuition told him that when they came out of this undertaking, hopefully unscathed, he and Guthorm would have a special bond that would last forever. 

     Ladgerda is a very special woman,” Ragnar acknowledged. 

     “Are you two thinking about renewing your relationship?” The earl’s question was carefully worded, but it still produced a chuckle from Ingvar.

     “Those two used to fight worse than anyone I know.” Ingvar finally gave up on starting the fire and got up. He smiled at Guthorm. “Believe me, they haven’t mellowed one bit over these many years since they were together. I was there for the first round and a second round doesn’t sound all that appealing to me.”

     Ingvar fell silent when Guthorm nodded toward Ladgerda who had gotten up and was now approaching them. She didn’t at all look happy. She emitted a deep sigh as she stopped in front of Ragnar. “I guess we’ll soon have to board the ship again.”

     Ragnar looked around and noticed that the men were getting restless. Several of them were glancing in his direction waiting for his signal to move on. He nodded at Ladgerda. “It’s time,” he said as he got up. He was about to alert his men when Guthorm stopped him. 

     “I’ve been considering that we might be better off continuing to Hleidar on land.” 

     Ragnar frowned at him. “How so?”

     Guthorm looked around. “This is a protected cove. Chances are that no one has seen us pull our ships in here.” He shrugged. “Who knows, they might even think that we went down in the storm.”

     Ragnar smiled broadly at the earl. “We would give them the surprise of a lifetime.”

     Guthorm nodded with satisfaction. “Exactly.”

***

Earl Rieger eyed Harald Hairless from across the table. “You don’t at all look well.”

     “King Harald has a sore throat,” Earl Hedi said when Harald didn’t answer.

     “Maybe it’s a summer cold,” Rieger suggested.

     Earl Thormod shuddered. “Well, I myself is still quite shaken after that storm. My sister sent word that their main house burned down because of a lightening strike.” He sat back in his chair. “Fortunately no one was hurt in the fire. Others were not so lucky,” he added with a deep sigh.

     Hedi cast a sidelong glance at Harald. The king sat slumped in his seat with a dejected expression on his face. Hedi clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. Here he had always thought that Harald would be clay in his hands which he could mould to his liking. Well, the clay was hardening and producing some unpleasant pointed edges.

     Someone knocked on the door to the counsel chamber. 

     “Enter,” Hedi yelled.

     The door was opened and a tall man dressed in a dark cloak walked into the room. He signalled at Rieger who got up and walked over to him. They conferred with each other in muted voices.

     The tall man left and Rieger returned to his seat at the table. He cleared his throat as he sat down. “I just got word that there have been no more sightings of Ragnar Lodbrok’s fleet. They must all have gone down in the storm.” 

     Hedi’s taut features relaxed into a triumphant smile.

***

Hedi put his head down on the soft bolster. He was exhausted. Since he had gotten word that Ragnar was approaching Danish shores he had hardly slept a wink. A pleased smile crossed his lips as he closed his eyes. Fortunately Ragnar Lodbrok was now resting at the bottom of the sea, his aspirations drowned with him. 

     The smile waned as Heidi’s mind wandered to Harald. He was cracking up under the pressure of being King. Hedi would have to spent a lot of time trying to built up his self-confidence again. Maybe it was time to consider finding a wife for Harald. A strong-willed, ambitious woman who would give him lots of sons to secure the royal line. Young minds for Hedi to shape.

***

Thormod strode over to Rieger. “I was hoping to still find you up and about.”

     Rieger sighed. “I can’t sleep thinking about all that took place today.” The pale light from the full moon brought out all the deep crevices in the old man’s face. He began walking the rampart that surrounded the Hleidar complex. His walking stick echoed through the still night as it hit the wooden planks. 

     Thormod fell in step beside him. With his long strong legs it was difficult to adapt to the slow pace of the old man. 

     Rieger stopped abruptly. “I’m bothered,” he said.

     Thormod nodded. “Since you were so strangely quiet all afternoon I thought so.”

     Rieger stood for a while thinking as he leaned heavily on his walking stick. “As you know well,” he finally said, “I respected King Siward greatly. He was confident in his role as a ruler.” He smiled wryly at Thormod. “Tough mind you, but you always knew where you stood with him. There was no slinking off to corners whispering with the likes of Earl Hedi.” He drove his walking stick into the planks of the rampart with a force that belied his withered frame. “No, there was no womanly scheming in Siward’s court. Him I could respect, but not this new king.” He wrapped his hands around his walking stick leaning on it as he stared in front of him. “It’s true that Harald Hairless is a descendant of King Godfred, but he’s…”

     “Spineless, idecisive and dishonest.” Thormod couldn’t help himself.

     Rieger chuckled. “That about covers it.”

     “That’s precisely why I came here to talk to you.” Thormod caught the old man’s gaze when he looked up at him. “How can we support someone we don’t even respect.” He glanced around him and lowered his voice. “If Ragnar Lodbrok hadn’t perished in the storm I think I might just have thrown my lot in with him, especially after what I have witnessed over the last couple of days.” He squared his shoulders. “I know well that this would have made me as traitor just as Earl Guthorm is, but how can I possibly continue supporting a man I’ve come to despise and distrust.”

     Rieger nodded with a grim look on his face.

***

“So will we be fighting soon?”

     Ragnar looked down at his son who was marching next to him with his brandished sword in hand. “As soon as we engage in battle you are to withdraw to the back of the lines and keep yourself out of harm’s way.”

     Erik’s look became stubborn. “I will not.”

     Ragnar was certain that the little nick he received to his shin from Erik’s sword blade was not an accident. “You little scoundrel,” he roared. “I will…”

     His outburst was interrupted by a yell from one of the men in front of him. “I just saw someone over there.” He pointed toward some hills. “We’ve been spotted.”

     Ragnar looked over at Guthorm. “How far are we from Hleidar now?”

     “A couple of hours march still.” 

     “Will they have enough warning to put on an organized defence?” 

     Guthorm shrugged. “Hard to say,” he answered. “It they think we perished in the storm most of the earls might already have moved their men out of Hleidar, but then again they could still all be there.”

     “I guess we better suspect the worst then.” Ragnar surveyed his men. They were still a sorry looking bunch. Aside from Herraud, Guthorm’s and Ladgerda’s trained forces, the rest was indeed a collection of misfits. Most of them were offspring of exasperated fathers, who had personally come to Ragnar when his call for warriors went out to sign their sons up in the hope that the experience would make them shape up. A lot of them, Ragnar noticed, didn’t look too enthusiastic about the prospect of battle. 

     Ragnar shook his head. What had happened to the youth of today? It seemed as if they would rather lounge around fires playing Hefnatafl or other games instead of seeking adventures in foreign lands. 

     He caught sight of Ladgerda who was marching in the forefront armed to the teeth. Now her he didn’t have to worry about. She seemed quite keen on chopping some heads off before the day was over.

***

Harald looked at Earl Hedi with shock. “Ragnar Lodbrog he’s…he’s on the way,” he stammered, “but that…that’s impossible.” He wrung his hands as he began pacing the floor then turned abruptly to Hedi again. “How could he have survived that storm.” Something caught in his throat. “We’re doomed.”

     Hedi’s hand shot out and seized Harald’s arm pulling him close. It was all he could do to keep from punching him. “Right now we don’t need anymore of your pitiful displays,” he hissed into his face. “How are the warriors supposed to respect a leader who can’t even keep himself together.”

    Harald took a deep breath to steady himself. “How…how big is Ragnar Lodbrok’s army? At least some of them much have perished in the storm.”

     If he now starts scratching himself, Hedi thought, I’ll kill him.” The spies are estimating about five-or six thousand men.”

     Harald’s lower lip began to tremble. “Oh, that…that’s a lot.” He looked at Hedi with big liquid eyes. “And you’re sure they’re headed this way.”

     Hedi, had to gather all his restraint not to kill him here on the spot. “Yes, King Harald, they’re indeed headed this way.”

      “Oh, that’s so…so very bad.”

      Hedi let go of Harald. Even touching him revolted him. “I’ve already informed the other earls. Fortunately most of them had not yet dispatched their men. As we speak our warriors are readying themselves for battle.”

     Harald clasped his trembling hands in front of him. “How many men do we have?”

     “About four-thousand.”

     “Oh,” was all Harald said.

     “But they’re elite fighters, all of them,” Hedi assured him. “They’ll have no trouble overpowering that dilapidated army Ragnar have managed to put together. My spies assure me that they look like misfits.”

***

“There’s Hleidar,” Ingvar said.

     Ragnar blinked against the strong sun and finally made out the ramparts surrounding the stronghold. He held up his hand and yelled at everyone to stop, then turned to Ingvar who was marching behind him. “It seems very quiet down there.”

     Ingvar nodded. “I had honestly expected them to send an army against us already. I’m surprised we’ve made it it his far without a confrontation.”

     “Some trickery might be involved,” Ragnar said as he scanned the ramparts for life.

***

Harald shook his head emphatically. “No, I’ll not be in the forefront. It’s suicide.”

     Out of the corners of his eyes Hedi could see the other earls cringe. He felt tears burn in his eyes. After all his careful planning, sacrificing and deceit it had come down to this miserable show of cowardice from the king. He was acting like a petulant child and no amount of coercing or threats from Hedi had been able to sway him. It was clear that Harald was not about to lead the warriors when they charged Ragnar Lodbrok’s forces. 

     Hedi turned his back to the other earls and bent over Harald. “It’s your duty, you little turd,” he hissed in his ear, “you’re making a mockery out of your position.”

     “I’ve always done your bidding, Earl Hedi,” Harald whispered back hurriedly, “but I won’t do this.”

     “Enough, already,” Thormod interrupted impatiently. “We’ve been standing around here idle for too long. Obviously, as I’ve long suspected, King Harald sorely lacks the virtues of a true king.”

     Hedi felt his face redden from anger as he spun around toward the young earl. He pointed a finger at him. “You’re talking treason. I could outlaw you for this.”

     Thormod crossed his arms over his broad chest and glared at Hedi. “You can do no such thing. In case you forgot you’re only an earl like me.”

     The other earls in the room nodded.

     Hedi looked into their angry and suspicious faces and knew he was about to lose everything. While turning to Harald again he unsheathed his knife from underneath his cloak and pushed the blade’s sharp point through the fabric prodding Harald’s soft belly with it.

      Harald’s eyes widened when he felt the cold, hard steel against his warm skin.

      “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll drive this through you,” He whispered to him. “And don’t think I won’t do it because now I’ve nothing to lose.”

      Harald gasped and then nodded.

      Hedi turned his head and smiled sweetly at the other men. “King Harald has had a change of heart. He’ll lead the army.”

***

Ragnar turned to Guthorm. “Instead of waiting around I think we should just storm the place.”

     The earl nodded his agreement. 

     Ragnar was about to give the go ahead for battle to the men when he noticed that one of the heavy wooden gates in the rampart had opened. Out trotted first one horse and rider and then another. Ragnar soon realized that no other riders were following the two men. He turned to Guthorm with a frown. “What’s going on here?”

     The earl was carefully studying the two riders. “The one in front is definitely King Harald. The other one as far as I can see is Earl Hedi.

      “But where’s their army?” Ragnar asked.

***

Rieger smiled at the other earls. “Let those two feel what it’s like to be the victims of deceit,” he said. “After Ragnar Lodbrok and his men have taken care of  them we’ll go out and swear our allegiance to him.”

     Triumphantly, Thormod thrust his fist into the air. “Long live King Ragnar.”

***

Harald Hairless glanced nervously behind him. “Where are the men?” he asked Hedi.

     “I don’t know.” The earl turned his head just in time to see Thormod grin and wave at him before the heavy gate slammed shut in front of him. A lump of fear lodged in his throat when he heard the gate’s iron bars being pushed into place. He looked at Harald. “It appears that the other earls have deserted us. We’re on our own.” Hedi took a deep breath to steal himself for what was to come. “Well, let’s at least show them that we know how to die like men.”

       Harald shook his head fervently. “Oh no, I’m…I’m not ready to die. I still wanna marry and have many sons.”

      “You’ve no choice, you fool,” Hedi snapped at him. “You can either die with honour or end up with sword in your back like a coward.” He clasped the hilt of his sword with his hand. “Which will it be?”

     “Neither.”

***

Ragnar watched with a mixture of awe and amusement as the older of the two riders, the one Guthorm had called Earl Hedi, dismount his horse and brandish his sword. 

     “I think that oaf is intent on fighting our army alone,” he commented to Guthorm who was standing next to him watching the scene playing out in front of them with a frown.

     “Nothing should surprise me when it comes to Earl Hedi, he’s a cunning man, but this.” He shook his head. “He’s either the bravest or the most foolish man I’ve ever come across.” He chuckled. “Harald Hairless on the other hand doesn’t look too keen on doing battle.”

     Guthorm was right. Harald, who still sat in the saddle, shook so much that his hands couldn’t hold onto the rein of the horse. He would now and then flash a tremulous smile at the warriors in front of him. 

     Ragnar felt a hard tug at his sleeve. He looked down into Erik’s officious face. 

     “So are you going fight him, father?” Erik pointed at Hedi who had taken up battle stance with both hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword and legs spread apart.

     Ragnar shook his head. “It hardly seems worth it, son. We’ll disarm him and take him prisoner instead.”

     Disbelief flooded Erik’s eyes. “But, you’re supposed to kill your enemy.”

     Ragnar put a hand on top of Erik’s head. “No, Erik, you don’t always have to kill your enemy.”

     “Well, if you’re not going to do it, I will.” 

     Before Ragnar could stop him Erik was sprinting towards Hedi with the sun glinting in the blade of his sword. “Stop him,” Ragnar shouted as he himself unsheathed his sword and raced after his son. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Ladgerda break lose from the rank of warriors in the forefront of the the army and rush toward Erik in an effort to intercept him, but she was too late. Erik brushed by her as fast as his short little legs could take him. All his attention was riveted on Hedi.

     Ragnar felt the blood rush in his ears as he tried to catch up. Ladgerda fell in stride along side him. The sound of their feet as they hid the ground echoed through the hot humid afternoon. Ragnar reached out to grab hold of his son’s tunic but the fabric slipped through his sweaty hand. With horror he saw Hedi step forward and without a moment’s hesitation drive the blade of his sword in between Erik’s ribs.

     With a roar Ragnar bore down on Hedi.

     The earl pulled the sword out of the boy’s body and deftly parried Ragnar’s blade as it aimed for his head. Ragnar came at Hedi repeatedly but his blind furor made his fighting ineffective. With a quick twist of his blade Hedi wrested the sword from Ragnar’s hand and sent it flying. Ragnar heard it falling to the ground some distance away.

     A triumphant grin spread over Hedi’s face as he lifted his sword to strike. Ragnar, his mind finally clearing enough to realize his precarious situation, dropped to the ground and rolled away from the sword as it bore down at him. The blade bit into the dirt next to his nose.

     Ragnar tore his ax out of his belt and threw it at Hedi’s head. With a loud thud the broad blade split Hedi’s face in two. The earl slumped to the ground and without a sound fell forward, shuddered, and then lay still. Blood mixed with brain matter spread out around him.

     Ragnar staggered to his feet. Next to him he heard Erik cry in pain. Ladgerda was on the ground next to him holding the boy’s head in her lap. Ragnar sank down on his knees next to them and enclosed one of his son’s small hand in his. “I’ll take care of you, Erik,” he sobbed.

     The boy moaned and closed his eyes.

     Guthorm came over and knelt down next to them. He touched Ragnar’s arm. “What do you want us to do with Harald Hairless?”

      “Take him prisoner for now.” 

***

     “We locked Harald Hairless in one of the storehouses, King Ragnar,” Earl Thormod said. “That woman…what’s her name?”

     “Ladgerda,” Ragnar said.

     Thormod nodded. “Yes, Ladgerda, she’s been watching him like a hawk. He’s still in quite a state and I’m wondering if he’s losing his mind.”

     Rieger gave the young earl a wry smile. “Not that he has much of one to lose.”

     Ragnar again looked down at Erik who was lying on a bed covered in the softest of otter skins. His face was pale and his breath shallow. Ragnar touched a hand to the boy’s forehead. The skin was cold and clammy. 

     “Sigrun couldn’t help him?” Thormod asked with concern.

     Ragnar shook his head. “The thrust was too deep. I fear…” He couldn’t finish the sentence afraid he would give away to his emotions. 

     “He’s a handsome boy,” Rieger said.

     “Yes, he inherited my looks,” Ragnar said. He glanced up when Ingvar came hurrying into the room. 

     “There’s a traveller at the west gate,” he informed Ragnar. “He insists on coming inside. Says he wants to take a look at Erik because he thinks he can help him.”

     Ragnar frowned at Ingvar. “How does this stranger know my son has been wounded?”

     “He just knows,” Ingvar said with a shrug. “Do I ask him inside?”

     Ragnar took his son’s limp hand in his and closed his fingers around it. “Yes, ask him inside.”

     A short time later a tall man, draped in a long black cloak, strode into the room followed closely by Ingvar. One of his eyes was covered with a dark patch. Without being prompted he went to the bedside and pulled Erik’s hand from Ragnar’s.

     Ragnar was about to protest but something about the stranger prevented him. For some odd reason he felt he could trust him. “What’s your name?” he asked instead.

     The stranger put Erik’s hand down and turned to Ragnar studying him intently with his one eye. “Rostar.” His voice was deep and resonant.

     “How did you come to know about my son?” 

     A smile moved across Rostar’s chiseled features. “I know everything.” He turned his attention to Erik.

     Ragnar watched him as he bent over and peeled back the boy’s bloodied tunic and looked at the wound. “I also know that you love this boy dearly even though you rarely show it,” Rostar said to Ragnar. “The sorrow over your wife’s passing has made you neglect those who most depend on you. Only now do you realize how dear your son is to you.” He flipped his cloak aside, untied the leather pouch that was attached to his belt and brought out a small flask.” He glanced at Ragnar. “You keep that in mind in the future,” he said as he pulled the stopper from the flask. He bent over Erik’s small body and sprinkled some of the liquid inside the flask over the boy’s wound. 

     A hissing sound filled the room and Ragnar watched in astonishment as the edges of the wound closed. A moment later not even a scar was left on his son’s smooth skin.

     Rostar pressed the stopper back in the flask and returned it to the pouch. “Your son will be fine now.” 

     Before Ragnar could respond the stranger without a second look at him swept out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

     Ingvar was staring at the closed door. “What kind of sorcery was that?”

     A serene peaceful feeling filled Ragnar. “I think we just had a visit from Odin. He’s known to come to people’s aid when they most need it.”

     Erik opened his eyes. His face had a healthy pink glow again. “Where’s my sword?” he asked as he sat up.

***

“And…and then my dog bit me and ran off.”

     Ladgerda scooted closer to Harald Hairless on the hard stone floor. “Oh, you poor thing. So in your whole entire life no one loved you?”

     Harald sniffled as he looked down at his tied hands which rested in the space created by his crossed legs. “For a while I thought Earl Hedi did, but then he turned into a very mean and despicable man. At times he would even resort to physical torture.” He held his bound hands toward Ladgerda. “If you remove these I’ll show you.”

     Ladgerda backed away from him. “I can’t remove those ties,” she said shaking her head. “Ragnar wouldn’t like that.”

     Harald wiped his nose in his tunic sleeve. “What do you have to fear since it’s me against all of you?”

     Ladgerda, who saw the logic in Harald’s statement, crawled over to him and bent over his hands. She began untying the rope which had been bound tightly around his wrists. Her fingers were stiff from the cold that pervaded the small dark and dank room. Only the light from a torch outlined the interior where rats scurried across the floor. Finally the knot in the rope loosened.

     Ladgerda glanced into Harald’s eyes. “Now you don’t try anything,” she warned him. “I want to remind you that I’m a former shield maiden.”

     Harald massaged the angry red welts on one of his wrists. “You’ve nothing to fear from me,” he told her.

     Ladgerda sat back on her behind. “So what did this Earl Hedi do to you?”

     Harald pulled his tunic over his head and pointed to his shoulder. “This.”

     Ladgerda got up from the floor, walked to the torch which was hanging in a bracket on the wall and pulled it out. Holding the torch in front of her she came back to Harald. Even in the poor light she discerned the black and blue marks marring Harald’s upper torso. “Oh, he was really mean,” she agreed.

     “And look at this.” He lifted his arm so she could see what looked like large black and blue pinch mark underneath his arm.

     “Oh, that’s horrid!”

     Harald wiped more tears from his eyes. “And now Ragnar’s going to sell me as a slave, I’ve heard.” He hung his head. “Oh, the shame of it.”

***

Ragnar smiled broadly as he watched his young son shadow fight an invisible enemy across the floor with his sword. He glanced at Ingvar who was sitting across from his at the table. “He has great promise as a warrior.”

      He turned his head when he heard someone rush into the hall slamming the door shut.

     Ladgerda hurried over to where he was sitting. Having disposed of her battle gear she was again dressed in one of her richly embroidered gowns. She came to an abrupt halt in front of Ragnar and took a deep breath. “I think that you can readily agree that without my help you would not now be the ruler of Denmark, but only poor old Ragnar Lodbrok.”

     Ragnar smiled wryly at her. “That’s one way of putting it.”

     She placed her hands on her hips “Well, I think that you owe me a favour.”

     Ragnar’s smile waned. “How big?”

     She stared hard at him. “I want you to pardon Harald Hairless.”

     Ragnar exchanged a quick stunned glance with Ingvar. “What?” he asked.

     Ladgerda looked defiantly at him. “You heard me.”

     Ragnar shook his head. “But in Thor’s name, why?”

     Her lower lip began to tremble. Even though she tried hard to make it stop it didn’t work. Tears had sprung to her eyes. “Because he’s the man I’ve been looking for all my life,” she said in a husky voice. “He’s sweet and vulnerable and…”

     “Harald Hairless!” Ragnar blurted out. “Are we talking about he man who tried to trick me out of my kingdom?”

     “It was not his doing, Ragnar,” Ladgerda said. “It was that horrible Earl Hedi, who by the way behaved despicably towards poor Harald.” 

     Ingvar slapped the palm of his hand down on the table top. “Now I’ve heard it all,’ he said shaking his head at her. 

    Ladgerda shot him an incensed look. “For your information, Harald understands a woman like no other man I’ve ever met, and…”she paused to catch her breath, “and he needs be loved badly.” 

     Ragnar didn’t even dare look at Ingvar. The whole situation was turning to the ludicrous and he was afraid he was going to burst out laughing if he did and Ladgerda was not going to take kindly to that. “Ladgerda,” he said trying to carefully choose his words. “Harald Hairless is not what you what call an imposing man from a…from a physical standpoint that is.”

     With her hand Ladgerda swept a few stray locks of thick blonde hair away from her brow. “Despite what you two may think I love the way he looks.” She glared at Ragnar and Ingvar in turn. “And I adore his bald head.”

     “Which he seems to scratch incessantly.” Ragnar couldn’t help himself.

     “Yeah, soon he will scratch clear though to his brain. If he has any, that is,” Ingvar sputtered.  

     Shaking with anger Ladgerda pointed a finger at Ingvar. “Don’t you dare make fun of him,” she snapped. “He obviously has a skin affliction so he can’t help it.” She spun to Ragnar, who was biting so hard down on his lower lip that he could taste blood to keep himself from laughing.

      “I want him and no one else,” she shouted.

       About to explode with suppressed laughter all Ragnar could do was nod.

     Ladgerda folded her arms over her chest. “So that’s a yes?”

      He nodded again.

      She smiled with satisfaction. “I’ll tell him.” She rushed out of the room. As soon as the door slammed shut after her Ragnar and Ingvar gave away to their mirth, laughing so hard that they had to hold onto their stomachs.

     Erik stopped fighting his imaginary foe and frowned at the two men.

     “Poor man,” Ragnar hiccupped as he wiped his eyes. “He’ll soon wish he had been sold as a slave.”    

This man is fortunate who can get for himself

praise and goodwill;

very difficult it is when a man lays claim

to what’s in another’s heart.

(The Poetic Edda. Verse 8)

Part two  

It was only when Earl Guthorm cleared his throat that Ragnar noticed someone had come into the hall. He looked up and gave the earl an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was lost in thoughts.”

     Guthorm walked over to Ragnar and sat down next to him on the bench. Ragnar had been sitting there staring into the flames on the hearth for the last hour or so letting his thoughts wander freely. “You’ve been so quiet lately, King Ragnar,” the earl said. “What’s troubling you?”

     Ragnar debated with himself if he should confide in the earl. Over the last many months he had developed a deep respect for him. He was a highly intelligent and pragmatic man. Just the other day Ingvar had said with a wry smile that Guthorm was the ideal counterbalance to Ragnar’s often impetuous and over zealous ways. Ragnar was still not sure how he should judge this remark from his best friend. Would Guthorm find Ragnar weak and uncommitted to the immense responsibility that was now his if he confided in him? He decided to risk the earl’s disdain. 

     “Now don’t get me wrong, Earl Guthorm, I’ve come to love Denmark. It’s a pleasant enough country. The forests are lush, the beaches unrivalled and the weather…” Ragnar shrugged, “well, of course the weather could be better, but I’ve grown used to it by now.” He got up from the bench and with his hands clasped behind his back began pacing the floor. He stopped abruptly in front of Guthorm. However much he tried he couldn’t muster much of a smile. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be king. I’m tired of the endless meetings and the placating of egos. I so long to feel the deck of a ship underneath my feet again and yearn for the sight of foreign lands.” There he had said it. Come what must come, he thought as he keenly observed Guthorm who sat there contemplating what Ragnar had just told him. His expression certainly didn’t give any indications of his feelings. 

     Guthorm finally took a deep breath and looked up at Ragnar. “I think that what you need at present is a break from your duties,” he said, his voice not carrying any hint of disdain. “Why don’t you outfit a couple of ships and take your leave for a while. It’ll give you a new perspective on things.” He shook his head at Ragnar when he saw he was about to object. “No, you go, King Ragnar,” he said. “I’ll take care of state matters in the meantime.”

     “Thank you,” Ragnar said, already feeling his spirits lift.

***

Ingvar came up to Ragnar who was sitting in the stern of the ship devouring the last of his meal, a sorry fare of dried fish and stale bread. They were fast running out of provisions. Days of pounding rain had made landfall futile since they would have trouble starting fires, much less maintaining them, and if they didn’t have fires it didn’t make sense to hunt because they wouldn’t be able to cook their kill.

     Ragnar was staring dismally in front of him as he tore at the fish with his strong teeth. He chewed for a moment then spat the mouthful out on the deck in disgust. The ship’s dog quickly pounced on it and quickly devoured it. 

     “Rain, rain and more rain,” Ragnar sputtered. “I feel like I’ve rotted to the core.” He looked up at Ingvar. “In Thor’s name, this is July.” He shook his head. “We should have gone to Hellespont, but no everyone said, go north because it’s so lovely in the summer,” he mimicked. His shoulders sagged underneath his heavy woollen cloak. 

     Ingvar was not in a mood to argue and really what was there to argue about. Any place would have been better than this. Truth be told he felt even worse about their situation than Ragnar. After all he was the one who had left a beautiful and eager new bride behind to join this ill-fated expedition. “What a waste,” he mumbled as he peered through the sheet of rain in front of him toward land. “Is it me or does the coast look more and more foreboding for each day that goes by,” he said. “Why don’t we just head south again. It serves absolutely no purpose to continue.”

     Ragnar shrugged. “Suits me fine.” He turned to Sejr, the older stout Norseman who was tending the rudder. “You heard him, let’s turn this ship around and head south,” he said getting up from the overturned box he had been sitting on.

     Sejr grumbled his agreement. Following Ragnar’s instructions he began altering their course. 

    Egil and Ketil, the two men in charge of the provisions on the ship, got up from their rowing benches and approached the small group around the rudder. They were twins with hair so red that if they stood in the sun the reflections in their locks blinded people. At this point, however, they looked as drab and dull as the rest of the crew. 

     Egil caught a drip of water from his nose with his tongue as they stopped in front of Ragnar. “Ketil has spotted a dwelling, right up there.” He turned and pointed towards shore.

      Ingvar scanned the rugged coastline. Because of the downpour it took him a while to spot the small house the twins were talking about. Its log walls looked as grey as the rain pouring down around them.

     He nudged Ragnar with his elbow and pointed. “Up there, Ragnar.”

     Ragnar at last caught sight of house and nodded. “I see it now.” He looked back at Egil. “So there’s a house up there. So what?”

     “Maybe they can supply us with food.” Egil said with anticipation. “Something else than dried fish and stale bread.” Ketil eagerly nodded his agreement.

      Ragnar didn’t look all that excited about the prospect. “Judging from the size of that place only poor folk live there who probably can’t even feed themselves.” He frowned at Egil. “Why bother?”

     The twins exchanged a disappointed glance, then Egil’s eyes brightened. “But King Ragnar, they…they most certainly have a hearth.” In his eagerness the words were stumbling over each other. “We could bring our flour up there and we could at least bake some bread.”

     The thought of fresh-baked bread made Ingvar’s mouth water. “Let’s do it,” he blurted out before Ragnar had time to respond. Realizing his gaffe he gave Ragnar a quick apologetic smile. “That is, of course, if you want to.”

      “Oh, why not,” Ragnar sighed.

***

Kraka pushed the hood on her cloak back on her head. She stared through the rain across the grey waters of the ocean. No, her eyes had not deceived her. There were indeed ships down there. Three of them. She stood for a while watching while the rain coursed down her face, now and then wiping water from her eyes with the back of her hand. With mounting excitement she realized that the ships weren’t moving. They had cast anchor.

     She turned and clambered down the bluff toward the stony beach. Above her she heard the sheep protest loudly over her sudden disappearance. When she looked up the biggest ram, Stroud, was looking accusingly down at her.

    When she reached the beach she slipped behind a big rock. Peering around it she saw two men jump over the railing of the closest ship and wade through the water to shore. They were much younger men than her uncle Aki. Kraka had never seen young men before and was fascinated by their broad shoulders and the smoothness of their features. As a matter of fact she was so mesmerized by them that she barely managed to pull her head behind the rock again when one of the men looked in her direction. “What a forsaken place this is,” she heard him say.

     When she peeked over the rock again she saw the other man nod. “How anyone could even consider settling here is beyond me.”

     Kraka watched as the men climbed the bluff toward the house, then turned her attention to the ships again. She caught sight of a figure standing at the bow of the nearest vessel. Even from this distance she could see that he was exceedingly handsome. She felt giddy. This was by far the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

***  

Egil knocked on the door to the small house. The rain water pelting onto the roof cascaded over the eaves leaving the twins even more soaked than they already were. He prayed that the flour in the two sacks he and Ketil carried wouldn’t get wet.

     “Who’s there?” The voice answering from the inside was female and suspicious.

     Egil exchanged a quick glance with his brother, then cleared his throat. “People in need of your help,” he yelled. He waited for the door to open, but it soon became clear that this was not going to happen. With his shoulder he pushed hard against the door but found it barred. 

      Egil had just about lost his patience so it was with great effort that he still managed to keep his voice friendly when he spoke. “I assure you, mistress, that we only come with good intentions. We have three ships anchored below you and we’re running out of foodstuff and we…”

     “We’ve nothing here to give you. We’re poor people.” The loudness of the voice startled Egil and he realized that the woman on the other side must have put her face close to where his ear was pressed against the door.

     “We only ask for the use of your fire,” he assured her. “We brought our own flour so we can bake some bread.”

     There was silence from the other side for a while before Egil heard the woman jiggle with the bar. She stopped all of a sudden. “How do I know that you’re not trying to trick me?”

      Egil rolled his eyes at his brother before he answered. “We’re honourable folk. King Ragnar Lodbrok is our leader and his reputation is beyond reproach.”

    “I’ve heard of Ragnar Lodbrok,” the woman said. “He’s a known troublemaker and what is a king doing up here when he has a kingdom to tend to?”

      Egil thought fast. “He’s on his way to visit Earl Helgi, but the weather turned against us. We’re fast running out of provisions. I assure you that King Ragnar Lodbrok will amply reward you for your troubles.”

     “Will he?” Ketil mouthed.

     Egil shrugged, then grinned at his brother when he heard the bar across the door being pushed all the way back. The door opened slowly and a short hunchbacked woman peered out at them. Her hair aside from being stringy and dirty was sparse and grey. She contemplated the men with nearsighted eyes before she stepped aside to let them by. “You’re twins?”

     Egil nodded at his brother. “He’s Ketil.”

     Ketil smiled at the old woman.

     “And I’m Egil,” Egil added.

     The woman muttered something underneath her breath as she closed the door behind them. She turned to Egil again. “You’ve red hair, both of you.” 

     Egil and Ketil put the heavy sacks of flour down on the earthen floor. “So we do.” He was beginning to wonder if the woman’s mind might not be somewhat impeded.

      “Red hair is a bad omen around these parts,” she said. “Ivar Horvi down by the lake killed one of his young ones when he realized the boy was going to have red hair.”

     Egil chuckled. “Well, I guess we must be grateful then that we were not born in these parts.”

     Ketil began chuckling too.

     The old woman obviously didn’t think it was funny as she, after giving them a disapproving look, went over to the hearth where a fire was burning brightly. She turned her disfigured back to them. “My name is Old Grima,” she informed them. “I have no last name since I don’t know who my father is.”

      Egil wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with this information, so he kept quiet. 

      “My husband is called Aki Thorson,” the old woman continued. She turned and looked at Egil. “He’s with a neighbour right now.”

     Egil nodded.

     “Unlike me, Aki feels lonesome up here at times. I on the other hand do not much like having  people around.” She seemed proud of this fact. “It is much too…”

     Egil, who was now afraid that the old woman was about to embark on a long narrative of her life and no doubt dismal circumstances, quickly interrupted her. “Maybe you’ll be so kind as to bake us some bread with the flour we brought.

    “How many men are we talking about?”

     “About a hundred,” Egil said.

     Old Grima snorted in disdain. “You want me to bake bread for a hundred men. Men that are not my kin. Men I’ve never laid eyes on.” She shook her head at him. “I might be of modest means, but I’m no fool.” She pointed to the fire on the hearth. “You can have the use of that. Imagine trying to take advantage of and old, feeble woman. Shame on you.”

Her gaze darted to the door. “Kraka, what are you doing here this time of day? Who’s tending to the sheep?”

     With his hand on the hilt of his sword Egil turned quickly and saw a hooded individual standing in the door opening. Kraka was such an odd name that he was not sure if he was faced with a man or a woman. That’s until the person swept the hood back from her head and revealed a beautiful young woman with large and intense blue eyes. Egil felt himself grow hot at the sight of her.

     An audible sigh escaped from Ketil who was standing next to him.

     “I’ll help you with the bread,” the young woman said as she closed the door behind her. 

     “Kraka, I asked you about the sheep,” Old Grima insisted.

     “They won’t be straying in this rain.” Kraka removed her cloak. Underneath it she was dressed in men’s clothing with thick grey woollen breeches and a oversized matching tunic which was gathered at the waist with a plain rope. This cumbersome clothes, however, did not hide the feminine soft curves of her body. 

     Egil felt himself grow even hotter. With horror he realized that he had a full-blown erection. He only hoped that the cloak he was wearing would hide this fact. He quickly turned away when Kraka walked towards him.

      She stopped right behind him. “Give me the flour so I can start baking,” she said.

      “I’ll…I’ll bring it over to the hearth, it’s heavy,” he stammered, still with his back to her. He flashed an embarrassed smile at Ketil, only to discover that his brother was totally under Kraka’s spell,  his eyes riveted on her.

     Kraka walked around him and continued to the hearth.

     Egil turned and picked up the heavy sack of flour. At least the sack was hiding his erection as he brought it to her.

      Grima walked up to Kraka so they stood face to face. “You don’t owe these strangers your services.” She shook a crooked finger at the young woman. “We’re not their servant.”

      Kraka stared undauntedly back at the old woman. “Aunt Grima, I’m doing this because I want to.” She smiled broadly at Egil with flawless white teeth. “I rarely have company around here, except for my aunt and uncle of course.”

      Blushing furiously, Egil put the flour down on the floor next to the hearth. “As I just told your aunt we’ll make sure that you’re compensated for your trouble.”

      She was shaking her head when he looked at her. “No need. I’m just grateful for the company.”

     “Now don’t be so hasty.” In her frustration Old Grima had closed her claw-like hand around Kraka’s wrist.

     The young woman wrested her hand from her grip. “Why don’t you offer our guests some ale while I prepare the dough.”

     “You uncle wouldn’t like that.”

     “He just got a new supply,” Kraka said. “He can afford to be generous with it.”

     Old Grima mumbled something that sounded very unfriendly as she shuffled to a big wooden barrel standing in the corner of the room next to a cupboard. She picked a ladle from among other kitchen utensils hanging on the wall above the cupboard and pried the lid off the barrel. She put it on top of the cupboard, pulled a clay mug from a shelf next to the barrel and ladled some ale into it, careful not spill a single drop. She filled another mug.

     Egil and his brother thanked her profusely as she came over to them, giving each of them a mug.

     Sipping from his ale, which he had to admit was some of the best he had ever tasted, Egil watched Kraka as she poured flour, some salt and water in wooden barrel, rolled up her sleeve and began mixing it with her hand while now and then adding some more flour. Even this most basic task was done with such graceful movements that it was a pleasure to watch. 

     “How can a family as plain as yours, Old Grima, produce such an exquisite creature?” Ketil asked the old woman, giving a nod towards Kraka. 

     Egil almost choked on his ale. Ketil had a tendency to shoot off his mouth before he thought it through, but this was outright stupid. They could hardly afford to insult the woman.

     As was to be expected Grima looked none too happy about the question. “How could you possibly know what I looked like in my younger years,” she snapped.

     Ketil inclined his head towards Kraka. “Probably not anything like her.”

     “Shut up, you oaf,” Egil shouted at him.

     Ketil gave his brother a surprised look. “I was only pointing out the obvious.”

       “Showing some tact wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome,” Egil hissed at him.

      Old Grima nodded with a stern expression on her wrinkled face. “It’s hard to believe that you two are twins.” This time she pointed her bony finger at Ketil. “You could learn a lesson or two about good manners from you brother, young man.”

     Egil’s gaze wandered to Kraka. His knees went soft when she smiled at him, and he had to take a large swill of his ale to steady himself.

***

Ragnar peeked out from underneath the fur cover he had pulled over his head.  He was relieved to discover that the drenching rain had finally stopped. Only the occasional drop would now and then splash onto the deck of the ship. The grey pall of the late afternoon, however, showed no sign of dispersing. With an exasperated sigh, he pushed the cover aside and with his foot prodded the sleeping form next to him.

     Ingvar pulled his cover away from his face and looked up at Ragnar. “What?” he asked, obviously not thrilled about having been woken up.

     “The rain has stopped.” Ragnar folded up his fur cover and put it underneath a rowing bench.

     The crew, having been rendered inactive for too many days and nights, began to stir around them. Wary glances wandered toward the leaden sky, hoping for a small break in the clouds that would signal a possible end to their rain soaked misery.

     Ragnar got up from the rowing bench and stretched. He walked over to the railing and stared toward the house on top of the bluff. He turned his head and looked at Ingvar, who was yawning so widely you could see most of his teeth. “What’s taking the twins so long? It must have been hours now.”

     Ingvar got up and arched his back. “It takes time to bake so much bread.”

     Ragnar smiled wryly. “Most likely those two are enjoying a warm fire and pleasant company.”

     “A warm fire, probably,” Ingvar said. “Pleasant company, I doubt it. The folks living in that wretched dwelling probably live a quiet and tedious existence and are therefore most likely not very interesting company.”

     Ragnar shrugged. “Maybe, but as things stand even an evening spent in a shack with dull peasants sounds enticing to me.”

     Ingvar came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re beginning to sound desperate, my friend.”

     “I miss Erik and Agnar.”

      Ingvar chuckled at this. “Now I know that you’re beyond desperate,” he said as he let go of Ragnar.

     The remark made Ragnar smile. He loved his two sons dearly, but their constant pranks drove him mad. “If truth be told, Ingvar, this trip is not the diversion I had hoped for. I don’t handle boredom all that well. Being king I found quite boring and being up here is definitely boring. Just being me is beyond boring.” He clasped his hands around the railing and stared up at the house again. “I think I’m depressed.”

     “Maybe what you need is a wife.”

     Ragnar shook his head at Ingvar. “I swore to myself that I would never again marry after Thora passed.” 

     “It was an oath made in grief,” Ingvar said. “Thora is no more, but you’re still alive and a man in his prime has needs.”

     Ragnar looked at Ingvar with pride. “I’ve always had my needs met in that regard.”

     “I don’t mean needs that over and done with in a couple of minutes.”

     Ragnar let go of the railing and squared his shoulders. “I can assure you that I take longer than that. The women I bed have never complained,” he added with pride.

     Ingvar gazed solemnly at him. “I’m talking about the loving commitment of one woman.

     Ragnar shook his head stubbornly. “I could never hope to find someone like my Thora.”

     “I’m sure you can find another woman you can be just as happy with, but in a different way,” Ingvar said.

     “And where would I find this wondrous woman.” Ragnar made a sweeping gesture with his hand toward the house. “Up there?”

      “No, of course not, but you have a whole kingdom full of desirable, eligible women.” He playfully prodded Ragnar in the side with his elbow. “Give it a try when we come back. It worked for me.”

      Ragnar snorted disdainfully as he looked towards the coastline again. “Oh, there they finally are, those two sluggards.” He and Ingvar watched as the twins waded through the water toward the ship, each of them with a bundle held high over their head so as not to get them wet. 

     “What took you so long?” Ragnar asked the two when they reached the ship. Behind him he could hear the commotion from the men when they realized that the long awaited bread had arrived at last.

    Neither of the twins answered Ragnar. They seemed strangely agitated as they handed their bundles to Ragnar and Ingvar and climbed over the railing. 

     Ragnar knelt down next to one of the bundles and loosened the knot holding it together opening it. He looked down at the content. “Are these all the breads you made?” He asked in dismay as he looked up at Egil.

     Egil shook his head. His words stumbled over each other as he answered. “There…there are more up…up there at the house.” He exchanged and eager glance with his brother. “We…we’ll go up there right now, King Ragnar, and get the rest.” 

      Ketil nodded eagerly. “We would love to go.”

     Ragnar eyed them both suspiciously. They were both young and strong men and could most certainly have carried all the bread in one go. Why were they so eager to return? The prospect of a warm fire didn’t quite explain their strange fidgeting around. Ketil, especially, was not usually one to overexert himself. He was always the last one to get going in the morning. He frowned at Egil. “What are you two up to?”

     Egil exchanged another glance with his brother. He was blushing when he answered Ragnar. “There…there’s a young woman up at the cabin, who’s…” He seemed at a loss for words to adequately describe her.

    “She’s beautiful,” Ketil said with a long sigh. “Very beautiful.”

    Egil’s gaze had taken on a dreamy expression. “Exquisite. She has eyes…”

     “Well, isn’t that a relief,” Ragnar, who was getting annoyed, interrupted him.

     “They’re blue, very very blue.” Egil was lost in wonder. “As blue as…” Again Egil’s vocabulary was sorely lacking.

     “And her body…” Ketil made a suggestive outline with his hands. 

     “Exquisite,” Egil repeated as he swallowed so hard you could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

     Ragnar, whose patience had finally run out, slapped Egil across the face with the palm of his hand. “Stop this shameful behaviour.

     Egil recoiled. “Ouch!” The slap had quickly brought him out of his reverie.

     “Most likely, you two have been without female companionship for too long,” Ragnar snapped. “Right now probably any woman would look exquisite to you.” 

     Egil shook his head solemnly. “Oh no, King Ragnar, I swear that I’ve never seen her like. As a matter of fact I…I was hoping that you would grant me your permission to ask for her hand in marriage.”

     Angrily Ketil kicked his brother over the shin. “Don’t you even think of it. I’m the one who wants to marry her.”

      Egil shot him an incensed glance. “You already have a wife.”

      Ketil blushed. “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

     Ragnar rolled his eyes toward the grey sky. “This is absolute madness.”

***

Egil piled the still warm flatbread onto the cloth. He stole a glance at Old Grima who sat on a stool close to the fire, her shoulders hunched over. It looked like she was asleep. Egil gathered the cloth over the bread and tied a knot. 

     He smiled up at Kraka. “I was hoping that we could go somewhere private and talk, just you and me.”

     Kraka gave him a puzzled look. “Why?”

     Egil found himself blushing again. “Because what I have to say is of a personal nature.”

     She glanced uncertainly at Ketil who was presently helping himself to more ale from the barrel. “Won’t your brother mind?” She asked turning her attention to Egil again.

     He stood up. Having Kraka this close made him tingle all over. “I really don’t care if he minds.”

     Ketil turned his head to him. “I heard that,” he said as he straightened up and took a long draught from his beer. 

     “Follow me,” Egil told Kraka as he headed to the front door. He was relieved to hear her follow him. He opened the door to the outside and let her by.

     With a deep frown at him she passed by him. 

     Egil closed the door firmly behind him and walked with Kraka to the edge of the bluff overlooking the ocean. The deepening twilight was swallowing up the ships. He turned abruptly to Kraka and seized her hands in his. “I know that we haven’t known each other for very long, but to me it feels like a lifetime.”

     Her eyes met his. “We only met this afternoon.”

     Egil nodded. “I’m aware of that,” he said awkwardly. “But I think that you know right away when you’ve found the…the right person.” He squeezed her hands. “When I saw you I…will you do me the honour of becoming my wife,” he blurted out. 

     She gaped at him. “Your wife!”

     “Yes marry me.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed each one in turn. “Make me the happiest man in the world.”

      She pulled her hands from his. “Don’t get me wrong, Egil, I do like you. I like your broad shoulders and narrow hips.”

       “Yes,” he said feeling an elation he could hardly contain. “Then it’s settled.”

      She shook her head fervently. “No, it’s not. I like you but…”

      “But what?”

     Kraka looked away. “It’s your hair.”

     “My hair.” Egil was confused. “What about my hair?”

     She fidgeted uncomfortably. “Well, it’s red,” she said looking at him again. “Very red.”

     It finally dawned on Egil where this conversation was heading. “Don’t tell me that you believe in that absurd superstition.”

       “Well, red hair is a bad omen,” Kraka said with a serious expression on her face. “My aunt and uncle would never allow me to marry you.”

      Egil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Only the colour of his hair stood between him and utter bliss.

***

Ragnar studied the bread he was holding in his hand with disgust. “It’s burned.” He tossed the chunk overboard and turned to Ingvar, who was trying to eat some of the burned bread. “Throw that away and let’s go up to the house and see what those two oafs are up to.”

***

Outside the small house Ragnar and Ingvar ran into a gloomy-looking Egil. 

     “The bread you brought us was burned,” Ragnar complained. “We had to dump it all overboard.”

     Egil didn’t look like cared much as he with his head bent turned around and walked over to the edge of the bluff. He began to climb down and soon had disappeared from view. Ragnar couldn’t help wondering if he had just been snubbed. He was about to follow Egil to give him a scolding, but Ingvar seized him by the arm to prevent him from doing so. 

     “Let him be,” he said. “Something is obviously bothering him.”

      “The young people of today,” Ragnar fumed, “they show absolutely no respect.” He stormed up to the house and without bothering to knock tore the door open. 

     A young woman crouching at the hearth got up and turned to him. Ragnar felt his pulse quicken. The twins were right, she was indeed a splendid looking female.

     “Who are you?” an old hag shrieked from a corner of the room and came charging at him with a poker in her hand. “What gives you the right to barge in here without knocking.” She lifted the poker ready to strike him. “Get out of here.”

     Ingvar who had followed Ragnar inside quickly stepped in between her and Ragnar and seized the old woman’s wrist. “Calm yourself, old woman.”

     The woman struggled to free her hand. “Let me go,” she screamed at him.

     The young woman came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Calm yourself, Aunt Grima. It’s men from the ships.”

      Old Grima stopped her struggle and instead stared into Ingvar’s face with her nearsighted eyes. “You can let go of my hand now.” 

      “Not before you give me that poker of yours.” He snatched the poker from her hand.

     With a broad smile Ragnar walked up to the young woman. “My name is Ragnar Lodbrok and I’m the king of Denmark.”

     “Like that’s something to be proud of,” Old Grima snorted.

     Ragnar took his eyes of the young woman just long enough to give the old hag a scathing look.

     “A king.” The young woman’s startling blue eyes shone with excitement. “Aunt Grima we have a real king standing right here in our house.” She extended a hand to him. “I’m Kraka.”

     Ragnar bent over her hand and kissed it with flourish.

     Kraka turned to her aunt and pointed at her. “She’s called Old Grima around here,” she introduced. “She has no last name because she doesn’t know whom her father is. Who knows, she might too be of noble stock.”

     Ragnar doubted that very much. 

     “Why are you here?” Old Grima asked in an unfriendly voice.

     “We’re here to fetch the rest of the bread,” Ingvar said.

     She pointed at the two bundles lying on the floor next to the hearth.

     Ingvar went over and picked up one of them. 

     “Hopefully those are not burned like the others,” Ragnar said with a sharp look at Old Grima.

     “They most likely wouldn’t have been burnt if your men hadn’t kept distracting my niece from the task.” Old Grima stretched out her bony hand. “Where’s my payment?”

     Ragnar arched his eyebrows. “Payment?”

     She nodded. “Yes, I was told that I would be amply rewarded for my troubles.”

     Kraka turned to her aunt with a frown. “I already told you that it wouldn’t be necessary.”

    “Oh, shut your mouth, Kraka,” the old woman hissed at her.

    Ragnar shook his head “I wasn’t aware of any payment,” he said. “I honestly thought you were doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”

     “Think again.”

     “Well, I am known to be  a very generous person.” Ragnar unstrapped a small leather pouch from his belt. “How does ten pieces of silver sound?”

     “Fifteen sounds better.”

***

Aki sniffed as he came inside the house. “I thought I smelled newly baked bread out there.” He closed the door after himself and went over to Kraka who was cleaning up around the hearth. He stretched out his work worn hand and stroked her cheek. “You must have known how ravenous I would be after my long walk.”

     Kraka smiled affectionately at him as she pulled his hand away and kissed it.

     Aki grimaced. “All Thule offered me all day was a bowl of porridge which was lumpy and gritty,” he said. “When I have guests over I always offer them our best.”

     Old Grima got up from her stool. “The bread was not baked for you. We had visitors today,” she added. “Three ships lie moored below the bluff. Caught by the bad weather they told us. Kraka baked them bread and they gave me this.” She came over to Aki with her hand outstretched.  

     Aki looked down at the silver. “That was a rather generous payment for some bread.”

     “They’re noble men,” Old Grima said as she closed her hand around the silver. “Their leader is Ragnar Lodbrok, the king of Denmark.”

     Aki gave a wry smile. “Well, I have to say that his reputation far precedes him.”

    Kraka looked curiously at her uncle. “So what is his reputation?”

     A strange uneasiness settled over Aki as he viewed Kraka closely. She seemed different somehow. There was an added lightness to her movements and a feverish tone to her voice. “Ragnar Lodbrok is a known troublemaker,” he said. “Any strife is seldom without his meddling presence.” He was aware that it was not just the heat from the fire on the hearth that had reddened Kraka’s cheeks, and there was a special glow in her eyes.

     “He’s the most handsome man I ever saw.” Kraka sighed deeply. “And he has blond hair.”

     Aki exchanged a quick apprehensive glance with his wife before he went to Kraka and put an arm around her shoulders. “My dear, even though we’re proud people we’re of very humble means. A nobleman, especially one who’s a king, is going to look for a wife among his own. He’ll want an earl’s daughter at his side, not a peasant’s.”

     Kraka put a hand over her heart. “In here I know that he’s the right man for me.”

     Aki squeezed her shoulders hard. “What do you know, my child,” he said. “After all you’re only just sixteen.”

      Kraka pulled his arm away from her and stamped her foot. “I’m not a child.”

***

Ingvar broke a piece of bread in half and handed one half to Ragnar. “So what did you think of her?”

      “Of whom?” Ragnar asked as he tore at the bread with his strong teeth.

     “That young woman of course.” Ingvar looked impatiently on as Ragnar chewed his mouthful of bread and swallowed. “It’s unusual to find a pretty woman like that among peasants, I grant you that.”

     Ingvar snorted at the remark. “Pretty! You know well that she’s a beauty.”

     With some hesitation Ragnar nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. She’s indeed a rare beauty, but she’s only a child and…and I’m only interested in mature women of a noble background,” he added quickly. “After all I have my reputation to think about.”

     Ingvar laughed out loud. “Since when have you started caring about your reputation.”

     “Since I became the king of Denmark,” Ragnar said with dignity. “It’s a lot of responsibility as you well know. One wrong move and I could lose all the respect I’ve worked so hard to earn.”

     Ingvar stared at Ragnar with disbelief in his eyes. “That’s it, I’ve had it up to here.” He held his finger underneath his chin. “Ever since Thora passed away and you became king you’ve adopted this self-righteous attitude that’s outright nauseating.” He spat on the deck. “You feel oh so exalted, so above the rest of us poor human beings. Oh yes, King Ragnar Lodbrok of Denmark has had experiences we could never hope for. Granted the rest of us was not married to Thora, this heavenly creature who was so brave, patient and wise.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “Well, brave she was to ever marry you, patient she was to stay with you. Wise…” He shook his head. “See that’s the one I personally don’t get.”

      Ragnar who had gone pale during Ingvar’s speech, jumped up from the rowing bench he was sitting on. “How dare you,” he bellowed, his voice shaking with anger.

     Deathly silence had fallen over the  the ship’s crew. “If you weren’t my best friend and blood brother,” Ragnar seethed, “I would already have done away with you over those insults.” His hand closed around the hilt of his knife. “Then again maybe I don’t need a friend such as you.”

     Ingvar gave him a defiant look. “Oh, yes you do. Otherwise you would turn into an insufferable pain.”

     Ragnar glared at him. “I’m warning you.”

     Ingvar bit his tongue. He didn’t regret what he had already said because those words had been brewing inside him for far too long. He waited until he saw Ragnar’s hand relax around the knife hilt and the tenseness in his expression soften. “You love women, Ragnar,” Ingvar again felt safe to speak. “It’s against your very nature to keep yourself from their company. Why don’t you just admit that you wanted to bed that woman from the moment you saw her.” He was relieved to see a smile cross Ragnar’s lips.

     “You’re right, old friend,” he admitted. “Yes, I wanted to seize Kraka and have my way with her.” The smile faded from Ragnar’s lips. “But just because you happen to be right on that accord  does not mean that I’m about to forgive your for your insults.”

      Ingvar nodded. “I admit I was harsh in my word.” But not overly much so, he thought. “And for that I apologize,” he added quickly.

     Ragnar searched his face. “You mean that?”

    “Yes, I do,” Ingvar answered solemnly.

    Ragnar seemed to be satisfied with that. “All right, I’ll forgive you this time. I’ll consider it a temporary lack of judgement from your side.”

     “So what do you wanna do about her?” Ingvar asked.

     “Whom?”

     Kraka of course,” Ingvar said. “Why would you deny yourself her sweet company.”

     Ragnar contemplated the question in silence for a moment before he answered. “You’re right why should I deny myself a little pleasure on this otherwise dismal excursion to these waters.” He allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, why deny myself one of the few pleasures in life still allotted to me.”

     He stared toward shore. A full moon bathed the modest house in its silvery light. “Tomorrow morning, I’ll reward the young woman with another one of my visits.” His teeth glinted in the moonlight as he flashed a broad smile at Ingvar. “This, I’m sure, will be a good thing for me. After all it has been a long time since I last had a virgin.”

***

An ancient looking man peered out from behind the door, sleep still clouding his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked Ragnar, who gave the man as cheerful a smile as he could muster. 

     “You must be Aki,” he said as he stretched out his hand. “I’m Ragnar Lodbrok, the king of Denmark. The women I’m sure has told you about my visit.” When Aki made no move to shake his hand, Ragnar instead turned and pointed in the direction of the ocean where the sun was barely lifting above the horizon with the promise of a bright clear day for a change. “My three ships are mored below the bluff.” He turned to Aki again. “We were waiting out the bad weather.”

      Aki gave him a grumpy look. “It’s very early.”

     “So it is, but you see I couldn’t sleep, so I just had to come up here and…”

     The slam of the door reverberated in Ragnar’s ears. His first impulse was to kick the door in and strangle the old goat, but common sense took over when he realized that he probably wouldn’t stand much of a chance with Kraka if he killed her uncle. He thanked Odin for all the diplomatic experience he had accrued running his own kingdom. 

     With ears burning from the old man’s slight Ragnar again knocked on the door.

    It took a while but eventually it opened a crack and Aki’s wrinkled face showed yet again.

     Ragnar greeted him with another bright smile, which was this time rather painful to produce. “I don’t know if you understood me correctly, but I’m Ragnar Lodbrok, the king…” He quickly put his foot between the door and the jamb when Aki was about to close it again, an action he came to regret when the old man slammed the door against his foot. The pain from the impact made Ragnar suck in his breath. This time all diplomacy had left him.

     “You miserable half-wit,” he hollered as he pushed against the door with his shoulder. The old man was no match for Ragnar’s legendary strength and the door flew open. Aki staggered backwards. Ragnar lunged at him and grabbed the old man around his scrawny neck with both hands. He relished the sound of Aki gasping for breath. 

      Someone seized Ragnar’s arm. He turned and stared into Kraka’s incensed eyes. 

     “Let my uncle go,” she hissed at him.

     Ragnar’s hands relaxed. Aki slumped to the ground as he let go of his neck.

     Old Grima rushed to her husband’s side. “You should know better than waking an old man from his sound sleep,” she yelled at Ragnar. She sank to the ground and cradled Aki’s head in her arms. “How are you, my dear?” she asked him. 

     Aki coughed as he struggled to sit up. He massaged his neck as he angrily eyed Ragnar. “That’s definitely no way for a king to behave,” he croaked. “How do you expect people to respect you when you behave this way.”

     Old Grima got up from the floor and faced Ragnar. “What dealings do you have with my husband at this ungodly hour?”

     Ragnar looked at Kraka. By the way she blushed a deep red he realized that she must have been studying him. “I was hoping to have a word with your niece.”

     “It’s of such importance that you can’t wait for decent hour to seek her out?” Old Grima’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “This seems very odd to me.”

     “I only wish to become better acquainted with Kraka.”

     The old woman snorted derisively. “Oh, I’m sure you do.” She turned and barred her niece’s way with her outstretched arms. 

     “Aunt Grima, do you think so little of me that you don’t consider me capable of guarding my own virtue.” Kraka looked at Aki over Old Grima’s outstretched arm. “You brought me up better than that, Uncle.”

      Aki stared at Kraka for a while then nodded at his wife. “Let her talk to him.”

     Old Grima reluctantly lowered her arms and stepped aside. “You can talk to him for only a moment,” she told her niece. “Be sure to stay right outside the house and keep the door open so we can watch you.”

     Ragnar’s disappointment was tangible, like a sour taste in the mouth. He had hoped to take Kraka somewhere private for some bodily exploration, but that obviously had to wait. Eventually he would find a way to be alone with her. Of that he had no doubt.

      Secure in his confidence he walked through the door opening to the outside followed by Kraka. In an act of defiance he slammed the door shut, but heard it being torn open again as he and Kraka strolled to a nearby rock. With his hand he indicated that she should take a seat on it. She did so and he sat down next to her. 

     Ragnar had a hard time tearing his gaze away from her. What an attractive woman she was to behold with her fine-featured face and shapely body. Her long blonde hair shone like gold in the first light of a new day. “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said and meant it.

     She flashed a smile at him. “Egil said the same thing.”

     The mention of the name irritated Ragnar to no end. “Egil!” It came out as a sneer. “You like Egil?”

     She nodded. “Yes, I do like him except he has red hair—it’s a bad omen,” she added when she noticed his puzzled expression. “He asked me to marry him, but I can’t because it would be ill luck for our children.” A coy smile moved over her lips. “Besides I like you better. A man like you I could definitely marry.”

     “Marry.” The word felt woolly and sticky in his mouth. The conversation was taking a turn he was not ready for. He cast a glance at the house. The door was open and he was sure prying eyes were following their every move. 

     He took her hand in his. The touch made him feel as if he was on fire. “Well, marriage is a serious commitment. It should only be entered into by people who are highly compatible because after all you have to endure each other’s company for a long time, maybe even for the rest of your lives.”

    With her eyes shining Kraka squeezed his hand. “I could endure you for the rest of my natural life.”

      “No touching.” Aki’s yell from the house made them jump up.

      “Is there any way I could meet you later.” He nodded toward the house. “Away from prying eyes that is,” he whispered to her.

     Kraka nodded. “I’m tending the sheep today. Meet me down there.” She nodded toward the spot where the bluff disappeared into the early morning mist.