Capítulo 5: WORK IN PROGRESS*** First blood
The ship creaked loudly, the only sound other than light snoring.
Birger was awake.
It was the first night onboard and he decided to not sleep.
He enjoyed the sloshing of the water against the side of the boat and he admired the waves while gazing at the bright moon in the sky.
Birger eventually stood on the prow of the dragon-headed longship beside another fellow viking when it left the coast of Folke town that morning.
He had set his shield and sword down before following the others to the front of the ship.
His equipment was well protected as he watched the boat make its way through the water and enter the open sea.
Some of the youths close to his age had been smiling, the apparent amazement of seeing the open water for the first time smoothing their features.
Some of them had never been on a raid before.
Fewer of them had ever left Folke town.
But notably the amazement ended to the more experienced.
After days facing the same environment, they began to find it boring.
Most decided to rest for a while during the light rain that didn't go away.
Birger was still joyful when he made his way to the stern, passing the oarsmen and beneath the sail.
His hair had been pulled away from his face and now rested tied in the braids he made.
Some men said hair should never be restrained, it should either be set free or simply shaved, though the Norse culture wasn't stranger to some vanity towards the appearance.
He went to Leif and Raul, who were still organizing their weapons.
He had heard them talking from his place across the ship.
Raul has just shed his large bow, its wooden body longer than his own torso.
"You seem in an unusually good mood." Leif said, as he kept cleaning his Axe.
Raul quirked an eyebrow, slicing into an apple a bare hour into a three day journey.
"Aye, the slight storm relaxes me a little." Birger replied and turned his head upwards, feeling the thin drops of water fall on his face. "It is a great day."
"You're kidding." Raul said.
Leif scoffed and handed the recently freed thrall a piece of food.
"Some of the men are tensing up, they are expecting a stronger storm to befall over us."
"Oh, if I wasn't here it would already had turned into an insufferable storm. But rest assured, we won't face the wrath of the gods today." He calmly replied with his eyes closed and raised chin.
"I can't believe how lucky we're to have you with us then. Please, accept our thanks." Stated Leif in a friendly yet mocking tone.
"You are welcome." Birger said.
Raul simply rolled his eyes in response.
He seemed ready to rest for a moment.
'He must be glad for being free after living as a slave.' Leif patted Birger on the arm and smiled. "I'm happy for you."
Raul recognized it as something bittersweet, though still friendly.
After all, it was Leif.
Birger finally looked back at Leif and Raul, as if still trying to adjust to the sudden change to his plans.
Before he embarked on this raid with them, he'd accepted to be their brother in battle.
When he talked to them, nothing was the same.
Birger actually wanted to avoid talking to them.
But the brothers' expression had softened since then.
Perhaps they were adjusting well.
But then he let them be and sat down elsewhere.
Jarl Herleif came across the ship to him not long after and sat beside him.
Their backs were against the side of the boat.
The men had bowed to the Jarl as he approached and they looked at them together then.
Herleif had a small bottle in his hand and offered it to him.
"May I help you my lord?" he asked with a nod.
"Here. It's something in case you get seasick. It always helps." He replied without looking at Birger.
"I have only a memory of being on a ship, it was when I arrived in Folke town, but I don't remember being ill at all."
The Jarl barely remembers that.
Still, Birger did not strike him as someone who would be sick off the waves.
He had walked to the front of the ship with a confidence that came from enjoying it.
He had not even stumbled or lost his balance the way many new to boats often did.
He did not require any aid at that. Just like he never did while working at his lands.
"Let me tell you something boy. I noticed how different you are." he said.
"What do you mean by that my lord?" He asked, genuinely curious.
"Stop already with the titles Birger. I've freed you, and my sons accepted you as their brother. Just don't call me old man and we will be fine."
Birger just nodded at that.
"Back to what I was saying... Well, sometimes a man is born who carries the spark of gods. True vikings we call them. It is a name that can summon armies. Ruthless, fearless, made for battle." He said.
"What? Me? Ruthless?" Birger responded jokingly.
But Herleif ignored his remark.
"There are traditions among our people that run deep as stone." He pointed at Birger's stored set of weapons. "Our shields are as versatile as they are strong. Our swords are lethal, simple, an ancient design."
"I was vaguely aware of that when I picked them." Birger lied.
"And that set of armor. I hope you understand it wasn't cheap." He said in a serious tone.
"Of course, I will pay back your investment. But I see you didn't opt for the same level of protection. May I ask why?"
The older man's expression suddenly changed because of his laughter. "You still have much to learn. The moment of a viking's death is chosen by fate. So what use do I have of armor."
A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the sky, but the Jarl expression didn't falter.
"Or of fear."
"Very wise words." Acknowledged Birger, a little surprised that his little stunt did not break the man's concentration.
"Glad you thought so." The man pretended not care but Birger saw that he was really glad at the recognition.
"So you see..." Herleif continued, turning back to him. "You may fight with regular weapons. But your true weapon will be your passion."
Birger was thinking over that. 'Yeah, thanks for the pep talk.'
But he just nodded.
"Remember, blood is stronger than steel."
And so the Jarl got up and walked somewhere else on the ship.
And he was still carrying his small bottle.
Birger could only smirk at the man's antics.
Later, it was the middle of the night and the sea had a way of becoming even more daunting under the light of the moon.
The men were all crowded together at the stern of the ship, a pile of bodies and limbs.
Raul was doing his best to not touch the others but inevitably failed.
Leif was laid out long, arms and legs extended casually.
They were peaceful now and Birger thought they looked like an ancient painting from Frigga's tomes, entwined together like they were casting a spell.
On any other night this might have completely escaped him, but Birger had recently becoming nostalgic.
He couldn't understand why.
For Odin's sake, he was a two centuries old Asgardian now.
Perhaps he should have stated a few more times of his plan.
But none have taken his statement seriously.
To be honest, he was surprised that no one from Asgard has come to talk with him.
Perhaps his stealth charm was working as well as he hoped for.
But the incident with the Huldra made him question that possibility.
Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy and for a moment he rested them.
When he woke up, light was breaking through the clouds and his crossed arms over his bent knees were supporting his head.
Birger was not shy about taking on work around the ship.
Being the first to wake up, he began to clean, he had learned how to manipulate the sail a century ago, he even rowed alongside the others.
The Jarl was not the only one impressed by him.
No one had said anything beforehand, but Birger thought many of the seasoned raiders must be questioning his presence aboard.
They believed him to be a simple slave that was just recently freed, he was tall and bulky, but that wasn't enough for a raid.
But Birger kept being a hard worker and proved little by little that he wasn't as clueless as some of the freshmen were.
He and Leif kept watch the next night.
They were sharing some cheese and bread in silence.
Leif finally said something that caused Birger to scoff around his bite of cheese.
"Although I care deeply for your sisters, I'm not interested in that particular way." He said calmly.
Leif turned over to the others, just to be sure they weren't being heard by his father.
"Well…" Leif began, taking a bite out of bread that was already staling. "It does beggar belief."
Birger laughed. "So you're sitting up with me tonight to talk about your sisters?"
Leif casually shrugged. "What's talk between friends?"
They continued with their small talk.
———————————————————
793 AD
After several days, they finally saw the shores of England to their right.
And a brief shadow of West Francia to their left.
Though it was arrogant to flaunt their ships along the coastline, Leif liked the thought of the southern kings knowing they were coming and fulfilling his father's threats.
Apparently his father did too, as he'd given the order.
A large island was visible on the horizon, its mountainous monastery breaking through the fog of the North Sea.
Birger was at the prow, trying to catch a better glimpse of it.
'So this is the official start of the Age of Vikings.' He remarked to himself.
He did not break his gaze, as if the island would vanish if he did not keep looking at it.
The old stories were being rewritten and it was a new age.
The heathen army would have a saga all its own and Birger's name would be the one remembered.
'Gotta change this name eventually. Now I'm a freeman.' He noted to himself.
Birger knew from his first view of the coastline that this would be a legendary event.
It will be a place that looms large in the stories and every inch of the land would serve as testimony of his existence.
Lindisfarne, even at a distance, already appeared impossibly ancient.
When he was still an Asgardian prince, he had frequently passed by ruins that were claimed to be at least thousands of years old.
England was a country of forest and rolling hills and its grass grew green.
Other warriors complained about the ceaseless misting rain and mud, the wide rivers with no bridges, the steep hills.
He already expected it.
They'd landed in Northumbria, the country king Æthelred ruled.
He no doubt received Jarl's message and knew of their arrival, since several Saxon scouts had gone running the moment their longships ran ashore.
What should have been an unprotected frail monastery, was now a well guarded station.
But it seems they were not as much as the Saxons could muster.
Probably because the king had to stretch his forces along his shores.
Fight was inevitable though.
It told Birger that fighting them would be nothing, that the army they had would be far more than what the king anticipated.
Leif said little about it but he didn't seem intimidated.
"Ready to make the gods proud?" Raul asked as they walked their way towards the beach.
The Jarl was ahead, leading the way with his men.
Birger just nodded in response. They didn't have the time to stop.
Drops of rain tipped his hair, ran down his mail armor.
The battle against saxons and his men will probably be on foot.
"You should fight in the shield wall, Raul. There you can better take advantage of your skill with the bow." Birger recommended.
"This is not my first raid... but good idea." He replied back.
Birger just grinned.
The battle would happen on a hilly field where the terrain would help disguise their larger forces.
The army would be broken into groups, some led by the Jarl, some by his commanders, and some by Leif.
Everyone seemed to think it would be an easy victory.
Across the clearing, the king had not fielded a fraction of the number the great army boasted.
He could just make out the red and gold of their flags, not the grand image of an English army that Birger imagined they might be.
Though the Saxons were mounted, the horses would not make much difference once the fighting began and they were overwhelmed.
Suddenly, a war cry went out.
Leif banged his large axe's pummel on the ground, shrieking.
The men with a richer background unsheathed their swords and yelled.
While those not so rich, lowered their spears.
Birger raised his sword and joined them until the cries of battle were all he knew.
No one would sing songs or compose poems in honor of this extremely one-sided battle.
Many of the English turned tail and ran before it started.
Herleif gave the signal and Birger took off running much faster than the other raiders closing his distance towards the fleeing soldiers.
It was remarkably easy as the Saxons were disheartened and so their guards were down.
He tried to focus and block out the noise, the screams, the howls, metal against metal, sword against shield.
This was what he had planed to do all along.
Just not so soon.
For some it was sometimes the difference between life and death.
Finally an group of English soldiers turned their attention to his tall figure.
Birger flipped his sword's hilt in his hand and bashed his blue shield into them.
It knocked the men flat on the ground.
Their panic was suddenly ended from her as he stabbed the Saxon's throats and blood splattered all around him.
"Request in peace." He said, and turned to another Saxon, who was cut down in short order by his blade.
It seemed like it was over in the next instant.
The battle, in total, could not have lasted longer than an hour.
He wiped his eyes once and saw the grassy field stained red and covered in bodies.
Few of them looked to be members of their great army.
To his left, Leif was pulling his axe from the stomach of a Saxon with poor armor.
His face was covered in dirt and streaks of blood.
He turned to him and cocked his head.
He nodded back since he was all right.
He was not even unnerved.
His hunts on the woods of Alfheim had been bloodier than this.
The Jarl called for his men to reunite.
The enemies' commander was on the ground next to him and being looked over.
The men pulled their helmets off while being filthy and covered in mud.
The English commander was an older man, perhaps old enough to have a respectable career as an English soldier.
It did not spare him from the Norse men's wrath.
His armor was torn from him, his hands were bound, and his feet were tied.
He was made to give up information about his fellow soldiers and even though no one knew he could understand him.
Birger heard his hoarse voice.
He did not give off the sense of authority he once did.
Birger moved with the others, as the trees were echoing with victorious battle cries from the raiders and the wretched moans of the executed captain as he barked in English.
Night fell quickly but the rain did not stop.
Torches and fires were lit.
The monastery didn't resist their advance.
They even managed to capture some civilians.
———————————————————
Birger took a bristle brush to his mail armor.
It was stained the dirty copper of dried blood.
Normally a boring a job, it was a reprieve though to his past of waking hours sewing gashes together and splinting broken bones.
For a short and easy victory, many raiders had managed to get wounded.
While a few didn't fared as much.
"Quite the adventure isn't it?" Said random man sitting beside him.
The man was using a knife to clean beneath his fingernails and was speaking of how bad he judged him.
He said there were many seasoned warriors that didn't performed as well as he did.
"I appreciate your praise." Birger replied casually, rubbing his thumb over a particularly difficult spot.
No one appeared to view their previous massacre as something strange.
Around him, the camp was bustling.
It was overrun with warriors sharpening blades for the battle they all felt was coming, mending armor and mail, eating while there was food to be had.
At a distance, he saw the Jarl's tent.
Leif and Raul were standing beside it.
The boys were eyeing the forest now, weighing their chances against the boars and wolves that no doubt stalked the woods.
Birger later went to another tent, to help wrap a raider's upper arm wound.
He could see that it was riddled with infection and would possibly need to be amputated.
But he just wrapped it tightly.
He was easily the best healer among the raiders.
He was focused, not easily ruffled by chaos, and he had steady hands.
He could stitch a gash better than anyone back at Folk town.
Speaking of which. Now he wondered how they were faring.
For a moment, Birger remembered the days he spent when the sun was cutting through the trees above him while resting on the grass of a hill.
"What news of the Saxons?" He asked to tear the image away from him.
Another random Norseman said they were less than a day's ride away, that there was a large army.
Battle could not be avoided and indeed, it would be necessary in order to push past English's forces into Wessex.
The camp had been made quickly a few hours before while Leif and Raul rode off to inspect the battlefield.
Since their return, there had been nothing but bickering between them.
Birger and Halfdan, whom he became acquainted with after speaking for some time, had sat to the side while the brothers argued about all manner of things.
Leif believed the Saxons to be weak.
Raul disagreed.
Leif thought Raul knew nothing, since he'd fought so few battles.
Raul threw back that Leif hadn't fought any more than he had.
"Then there isn't much time to waste." He said, knowing they would likely fight the Saxon forces tomorrow.
"And even less to fight over petty things." He stared at the brothers, who were now making their way through the camp.
In the mist that seemed constant in England, they did not look like brothers or friends.
They appeared to be adversaries.
———————————————————
(29/08/2020)
*Apologies for my long absence. Hope this chapter is of your liking. Anything you wish to ask, feel free to do so.
I'm almost finished writing an update chapter. In that auxiliary chapter, I plan to address some of the complaints that I've been receiving.
Thanks as always for your attention and please be safe.
Any problems with my writing, just point them out and I will correct them as soon as possible.
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