“It’s time we went on another campaign,” Magnus said, finally breaking the tense quiet. “We’ve been idle long enough.”
“Have you decided on a direction?” I asked, careful to respond without hesitation. I had been expecting this—yet another reason why I didn’t need Brant maiming any more of my recruits. If we were going on a raid, we’d need our warriors at full-strength. As it was, Magnus had incomprehensibly wounded enough of his own people lately with his maniacal campaign for ‘justice’. He’d been carrying out his vigil among the clan ranks, ensuring he had absolute loyalty from his subjects, even if such loyalty was encouraged by the point of a sword.
Raiding right now was folly, and everyone in the clan knew it. Why Magnus couldn’t see this, I couldn’t begin to guess. Our men needed rest and recuperation. Our last raid was but a mere three months ago and the lives of countless good men had been lost. The remaining clansmen didn’t need to be tossed back onto unfamiliar grounds where they would be required to fight for their lives. And their reward? Glory and riches for Magnus and more toil and loss for themselves.
“I think it’s time we visit our friends, the English,” Magnus replied. If he sensed my unease, he made no note of it as he continued. “News has reached me that a royal wedding is on the horizon. The English king is marrying off one of his daughters to the king of Tara. Weddings require gifts, of course, meaning riches will be transported between two kingdoms. It is the perfect opportunity to strike.”
“It also means the two kingdoms are uniting, which could result in creating a larger enemy to fight,” I said, pointing out the tedious fact. My reasoning was sound. Surely the king would see the error in kicking the English hornet’s nest, especially during a time when they were forging allies with their neighbors, growing in strength while we felt the lingering effects of raid after raid.
“We will be doing things a little differently this time,” Magnus said, staring at me but not seeing me. He was lost in his thoughts. “The courting period for the princess’s hand will span a month’s time. At the end of that month, the two kings will hold a ball to celebrate the engagement. The wedding will occur in Tara. This presents us the opportunity to surprise our enemy instead of attacking them head-on. We will be as ghosts among the English’s soldiers and King Cathal’s court. While we are infiltrating them, we will also take the opportunity to loot but don’t be blatant about it. We are trying to keep from engaging them until I have decided exactly what my intentions are. We will be able to do this during the month-long courting period, so we have time. We will infiltrate the castle guards, replacing the English king’s men with our own.” As he paused, I had a moment to consider his plan, which could lead to fewer casualties for both sides than our normal, brutish strategy.
“We will lay in wait until the engagement party. Then, we will strike in full-force, take what we want at the point of a sword, and then leave. By the time they know what occurred, it will be too late.”
We were quiet for a few minutes after he explained the plan. It was too simple for Magnus. As I considered my jarl, I got the distinct impression he was hiding something from me. I had long ago realized that no matter how much power Magnus had, he would still crave more. And no matter how much gold he brought back from the civilized lands, he would never have enough. His lust for battle was never sated, nor was his greed. While Magnus revealed how he would acquire riches on this endeavor, the strategy to obtain power was yet to be seen.
“When do you wish to leave?” I asked, mentally preparing for the worst.
“How soon can you have our troops ready?” It was the answer I knew was coming. I thought long and hard before I spoke again, knowing Magnus would not accept a lengthy delay. His mind was made up. Any opposition on my part would only result in provoking his temper.
“Our warriors are strong, but our new recruits are more adept at wielding a hoe than an axe. Still, if Odin is with us, I think I can get everyone ready in a fortnight.”
“Make it a week.” He growled. Without waiting for my counter, he stalked toward his hut.
I sighed as I stared at the jarl’s back as he tromped away. Well, at least Brant will be happy, I thought to myself. While Brant wasn’t as bloodthirsty as Magnus, and he didn’t kill other men for sport, I knew he enjoyed cracking a few skulls for the glory of his gods. He would probably run the mead hall out of ale this evening when I told him. I was in for a long night.
Smoke wafted from the sturdy hut that stood about a quarter mile away from the rest of the village, resting on a small knoll overlooking the crags of the Skagerrak bay. The smell of stew and freshly baked bread reached my nostrils, making my stomach growl. Having no doubt I would be offered a bowl, I resolved to eat as much as I could—I’d a full stomach if I wanted to stay on my feet. Brant wasn’t going to leave me alone until I’d drunk at least as much as he had, and his tolerance of libations was legendary. He was probably already crooning the Lament of Ymir and the sun hadn’t even set.
I pushed open the door without knocking and found my mother standing with her back to me, humming to herself as she slowly stirred the contents of a small iron pot hanging on a tripod stand over a low-burning fire. She preferred to live alone in her small house, rather than with one of the large families in a longhouse, even though she would be more than welcome. My mother was small for a Norsewoman, but now she looked even smaller. She stood slightly hunched, a sign not only of her advanced age, but of the toll her visions had taken upon her. Her long silver hair was woven in a braid, which looked like a worn and frayed rope that trailed stiffly down her back.
“When do you leave?” she asked, breaking off her humming without turning around.
“I…we…how did you know?”
“You grew up in this house, and yet you ask me that? A mother doesn’t have to be a seer to know when her son is troubled.”
“Still, it’s… unsettling. I just wish you’d let me actually tell you some news once in a while.”
“Ah, but you have already told me. It’s written all over you, boy.”