Brothers in Blood (Norman Genesis Book 7) Read online

  Brothers in Blood

  Book 7 in the

  Norman Genesis Series

  By

  Griff Hosker

  Published by Sword Books Ltd 2017

  Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition

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

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

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

  Cover by Design for Writers

  Thanks to Simon Walpole for the Artwork.

  Hrolf the Horseman

  PART ONE

  The Curse

  Prologue

  I am Hrolf the Horseman. I came to the land of the Franks and carved out a land for myself and my family. When I came, we were the Raven Wing Clan. Now we are the Clan of the Horse, for many of my warriors now ride to war. A dream and a visit to a witch called Skuld made this so. I was told that my blood would rule not only the land of the Franks but the land of the Angles too. I was getting old now and I was not certain that I would live to see it. Now that I had seen more than fifty summers we had a toe hold on the land the Franks called the Cotentin. I was amazed that I had lived so long. Most of the Vikings I had fought alongside were now dead. Ulf Big Nose, Siggi White Hair, Sven the Helmsmen were all dead. Last year Harold Fast Sailing and Erik One Arm had died too. My old friends were falling fast and I had heard that Rurik One Ear was not in the best of health.

  I still believed that the Weird Sisters had something planned for me that they had made me live so long. Of course, Mary, my Christian wife, did not believe such things. She put it down to the church we now had in the Haugr. In fact, all of our strongholds had a church and Christians rubbed shoulders with those of us they called heathens. We no longer felt Norse although we still sailed our dragon ships and still fought in a shield wall. We were the North Men as the Franks called us. We called ourselves the Clan of the Horse for horses were an important part of our life. We were the equal of any Frankish warrior. My son Ragnvald was superior to them all. He was a horseman who had no peer. He had been trained by Alain of Auxerre. He had been my leader of horse until he had fallen ill with the coughing sickness. It was seven years since he had died. I missed him. Hugo Strong Arm led them now.

  Since we had taken Carentan we had not expanded our land. There had been no need to. The land we had was more than big enough and our men farmed and raided in equal measure. My son was the head of the clan now. He lived in Benni’s Ville on the west coast of the Cotentin. With his wife, Mathilde, he had two living sons. A third, conceived between Ragnvald and Rollo, had died. Many, me included, thought that was a curse from the gods for a priest, Æðelwald of Remisgat, had witnessed the birth of his eldest, Ragnvald. When Mathilde was carrying Rollo, I had paid a volva to put a spell on the unborn child and protect him from the curse. When Rollo was born both healthy and strong I knew that there had been a curse. This was the worst kind of curse. It was not from a witch or a lord. It was a curse from the Mother. Only the Allfather was more powerful. A man was not supposed to witness the ritual of birth and a priest had. I blamed the Christians. They did not understand the natural order.

  I liked my two grandchildren. But, I must confess, that Rollo was my favourite. I told no one. It was in my heart that I felt it. I treated them equally. Both had the same gifts of swords and helmets. I took them both hunting too but it was Rollo who warmed me. I think that, at the back of my mind was the thought that Ragnvald was cursed too. The spell must have worked for Rollo was already huge and had grown quicker than Ragnvald. I joked that he was Rollo the Giant. Mary did not like such words. “He is a little boy! Do not call him names!” She was a Frank and did not understand that nicknames were important to a Viking. A Viking might have many names. We liked word games and names were another such game.

  I did not get to see either grandchild as often as I might have liked. They lived on the other coast. Mary, my wife and also a Christian, missed them too although now that our daughters were mothers and their children lived closer to us she occupied herself with them. They were girls. I had but two grandsons. These days I spent my time riding and breeding horses. My days of war were gone. We feared no man and with our strong defences we were safe from attack.

  Ragnvald Hrolfsson

  Chapter 1

  My new drekar was made ready not long before the feast of Eostre. My wife and her family called the feast Easter and we were able to share a common celebration. ‘Stallion’s Fire ’ was the largest drekar we had ever sailed. She had fifty oars. If we double crewed her we could take a hundred warriors raiding. I was keen to raid. The Franks were becoming richer. They had mighty churches they called cathedrals. They filled them with silver and gold. The Christians amongst us disapproved of our raids yet they benefitted as much as we did. When my mother visited us she and Mathilde would try to persuade us not to raid. My father always supported me. We had not raided for more than a year. We had gathered enough in that time to make us comfortable. The gods had been kind to us. My warriors had families and they had grown. We had more mouths to feed and to clothe. We needed to raid.

  Ragnvald Ragnvaldsson was now twelve summers old and he was keen to come to sea with me. Little Rollo Ragnvaldsson was only eight but he was also desperate to follow his father. I would have to leave him at home. He was too young. His size suggested that he was old enough. He was far bigger than his brother. Ragnvald appeared not to have grown while Rollo just grew and grew. It had caused some conflict between the two. Rollo was a gentle giant. It did not do to have them in close proximity. We needed every pair of hands we had to fit her out and so I had Rollo on the deck helping me. He worked as hard as any and harder than most. The rest of my warband adored both of my sons but Rollo was the one who had the winning smile. He was the crew’s favourite. That did not sit well with Ragnvald. Rollo was the one with the sparkling blue eyes. He looked more like a Viking than either my father or me. We called him Little Rollo for he had been born small. It was not true any longer. He had filled out and would be the biggest warrior in the clan if he kept on growing.

  I was at the steering board with Harold Haroldsson, my shipwright and we were adjusting the withy when I turned and saw Ragnvald deliberately push Rollo off the side of the drekar and into the water. They were boys and they were always into mischief but what concerned me was that Ragnvald did not offer to help his little brother back on board. In fact, he stood and watched Rollo as he flailed in the water. I ran down to the prow and threw a rope, “Rollo grab the rope! Ragnvald help your brother!” Rollo could swim but he had his sealskin boots on and they might have taken him down. He grabbed the rope and I pulled him up the side. He had strong arms for someone so young and he walked up the side of the drekar. Ragnvald held a hand out to help him but Rollo glared at him and carried on walking. Ragnvald shrugged.

  “Sit until you get your breath back.”

  “I am fine father.” He glowered at Ragnvald, “He pushed me!”

  Ragnvald turned, “I did not!”

  I reached over and smacked him on the back of the head, “Do not lie! A warrior is never foresworn. I saw you! Now get ashore. I will decide on your punishment later!”

  His eyes filled with hatred and he bunched his fists. Then he thought
better of it and turned to head to the gangplank and the shore. Rollo said, “I was not hurt, I can swim! I am not afraid of the water.”

  I nodded, “Notice how the rest of the crew are barefoot. It is safer that way. Take off your boots and then go and help Karl a load the hold.”

  He nodded cheerfully, “Aye father.”

  Leif Sorenson was coiling a rope, “I would not worry, Jarl. My brothers and I fought the whole time we were growing up. It makes a warrior stronger.”

  I was grateful to Leif. I was finding fatherhood difficult, “I only had sisters. I know not how these things work.”

  “The elder will keep the younger in place until the younger works out that he can outwit the elder.”

  It was another worry for me. I had enough on my mind. I would be leading three other drekar on the raid to Sarnia. It had been some time since we had done so. Their sheep had just lambed and their cows, calved. It was a perfect time to raid. We had already scouted out a beach on the western side of the island. The whole island was only five miles across. Their stronghold was on the east coast and faced us. When we had taken their animals, we would return and then raid Saint Maclou which lay further south on the mainland. There was a monastery there. As far as I knew no one had raided it before. Our ships had seen that they were building a stone defence to the port. If we were going to raid then we had to do it quickly.

  Jarl Finni Bennison, and Jarl Einar Bear Killer were already heading around the coast to join us in the raid. Jarl Folki Kikisson had further to sail for he had an anchorage close by his home at Carentan. His stronghold was the furthest south. Surrounded by water and wetlands it was the hardest to take. His warriors were not horsemen but there were no finer warriors in the land. When they arrived then we would raid. The men I led were all older than I was but my father had passed the leadership of the clan to me. I was honoured. This was the first time I had led four drekar. It was also the first time my father had not been with us. Would we have the same luck he always brought us?

  When the ship was ready we all trooped ashore. I decided how to punish Ragnvald when we neared my hall, “Rollo, what say we take our horses for a ride before we eat?”

  Rollo, of course, did not have a horse. He had a pony. Now that he was much bigger I was going to risk him on a larger horse. He nodded eagerly. “Yes please! Can I wear my helmet? I feel like a warrior when I do.”

  I had had Bagsecg make him an open helmet. He would not need to wear it to war but he enjoyed having it on his head and it was good to get him used to something that, when he became a man, he would wear all the time.

  “Of course. We will ride along the shore. Our mounts enjoy running in the sea and it seems to do them good.”

  I chose Dawn’s Light. She was a lovely horse to ride. She was not one for war but she was clever and the most beautiful colour; chestnut with golden mane and tail. I shouted to Rolf, my servant, “Tell your mistress we will ride before we eat. She should not worry.”

  “Aye, Jarl.”

  I turned to Rollo, “Take Thor today.”

  “Truly? I can ride a full horse?”

  “Your legs are long enough and your arms are stronger. Thor is a gentle horse but we will ride along the sand in case you cannot keep your saddle.”

  “I am the grandson of Hrolf the Horseman! I will not fall!”

  With his helmet on his head we hurried to the stable and saddled our horses. We had servants but I had taught both of my sons that it was better to saddle your horse yourself. Horse and man became as one. Saddled, we rode back towards the shore and cantered along the beach. I say cantered but Thor, Rollo’s horse had to gallop to keep up with my horse. I had no fear of Rollo falling, he had wonderful balance but, as we were riding along the sand and the water, little harm would come to him if disaster struck.

  When I thought we had ridden far enough I reined Dawn’s Light in. Rollo had excitement in his eyes and his cheeks were flushed. We let the two beasts regain their breath. “Father, why do you raid when we could take horses and raid from the Franks?”

  “That is a good question, my son. The Franks fear us and they have made stone buildings along the border to keep us at bay. If we tried to raid, using our horses, then we would have to reduce stone walls. By the time we had done so they would have taken their treasures and animals and hidden them. This way we strike wherever we choose. We use rivers and we use the night to help us.”

  He nodded and we turned our horses to walk back to the hall. “When can I sail with you?” He gave me a knowing look for one so young. “I know that I am too young yet but I would like to help the clan. I am bigger than some of the ship’s boys you will take.”

  He was right but I was more worried about Ragnvald. I wanted no hostility between the two of them. “Three more summers and you can come. How would you like to spend time with your grandfather while we raid this time?”

  His eyes lit up, “Grandfather! That would be almost as good as sailing with you!”

  “Then tomorrow, before we leave, I will take you to the Haugr while my other drekar arrive. It will do my father good. He has been a little lost of late.”

  Rollo nodded, “I thought that he was sad when last he visited.”

  “He has lost friends. His beard and his hair are grey. He is still a mighty warrior but Odin gives a warrior less time on this earth than a farmer.”

  “Grandfather is the heart of the clan, isn’t he?”

  I looked at my young son. Sometimes he was so perceptive that I thought him many summers older than he actually was. “He made the clan. He was a slave and was saved by the Dragonheart. He made the Raven Wing Clan the most powerful warriors and then formed us, the Clan of the Horse. We are lucky to have him as the head of our family.”

  We reached the hall before dark. After unsaddling and rubbing down our mounts we went to the sea and stripped off. We both swam naked to clean the sweat and smell of horses from us. My wife Mary did not like the smell. Rolf had seen us and he approached with drying blankets and clean clothes. He dried Rollo. My son was popular with the servants and slaves too.

  “Rolf, I would have you prepare clothes for Rollo and yourself. We will ride to the Haugr tomorrow. He will stay with my father while we raid.”

  Rolf grinned. He had been one of my warriors until an unlucky blow had hamstrung his right leg. “Then I will get to drink Brigid’s ale. Since her husband died the beer has been better than ever. I hear it is because she honours his memory. She calls her new brew Erik’s Blood.”

  “It is good ale.”

  When we entered the hall, we were greeted by Ragnvald’s scowl. I had forgotten his misbehaviour. Mary cocked her head to one side. I would tell her later, “Now Ragnvald you know that you did wrong today. Firstly, you endangered your brother. He will be a warrior one day and we can forgive that… once.” He looked defiantly at me. “What is harder to forgive is the lie you told me.” I saw his eyes and they were filled with anger. “Perhaps I should not take you in this raid. I know that your mother does not wish you to go. I would be pleasing her and punishing you.” I sat down and took the horn of ale Mary handed me.

  His face changed in an instant, “No, father! I beg! Let me come! I am sorry. You are right I should not have lied. I will not do so again.”

  I turned to Rollo, “Do you forgive your brother, Rollo?”

  Rollo was so happy to be visiting with his grandfather that he beamed and said, “Of course! It was nothing!”

  I nodded, “Then you shall come with us.”

  He smiled but Ragnvald’s smile was hollow. It was not in his eyes which burned hatred. I was disappointed with my eldest son. I had thought that the fact I was taking him raiding would have made him act more like someone older. He was still a child at heart.

  Folki Kikisson had arrived by the time we were saddled and ready to ride to the Haugr. I waved as I headed north and east with Rolf and Rollo. The road we took was not Roman. It had been worn by our horses over the past years. It twisted
and turned between farms. Families were working in the fields. Crops had to be sown and animals tended. Had we raided in high summer then we could have taken twice as many boats. The drekar I would lead were crewed with the real warriors; the ones my father had led on raids.

  I spied my father before we even reached the Haugr. He was out riding. When he saw us, he put his heels to his horse and galloped over to us. He was still a fine horseman despite his advancing years. His tanned face broke into a smile when he saw Rollo. There was a special bond between the two of them.

  “This is an unexpected pleasure! What brings you here?”

  “I go raiding.” My father nodded. “Rollo is too young. We thought he might spend some days with you and his grandmother.”

  “He can spend as long as he likes in my hall.” He put his hand on that of Rollo. “You raid soon? The drekar left yesterday.”

  I nodded, “We will sail at sunset. It will take half a night to reach Sarnia then we have to cross the island to be there by dawn.”

  “Then you had best leave now. May the Allfather watch over you. Fear not for Rollo. When he is with me he is safe.”

  “I know. Take care, my son and obey your grandfather.”

  “He always does. He is a good boy.”

  Even as I turned I found myself missing Rollo. He was growing all the time. Perhaps I would be able to take him raiding sooner than I had taken Ragnvald.

  The other drekar captains were waiting for me at the quay. The warriors who would be raiding were drinking and speaking of oar brothers who were now in Valhalla. Over the next couple of months, we would almost live together and then not see each other until the following year. We all lived in different parts of the land of the Clan of the Horse and we were all different. My warband was like my father’s; we were horsemen. The men who followed Folki, Einar and Finni could all ride but they were not the equal of mine. They were old fashioned Viking warriors.