Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson is now Lord of Rouen but his world is still imperfect. He has no son and the prophesy made by the Norns cannot come true. Hrolf the Horseman suggests they visit a witch and they travel to the Land of the Wolf where they meet the Dragonheart’s daughter Ylva. She spins a spell and the fate of both Hrolf the Horseman and his grandson is decided. The journey to Paris would be along a bloody one. Those dear to Lord Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson would suffer but the spell had been woven and the end would be inevitable. The Vikings would fill the Seine with their dragon ships and the dream of Hrolf the Horsemen would be one step closer to fulfillment.
The Norman Genesis series is drawing to a conclusion. My latest novel is based around the build up to the raid on Paris in 885. It was not successful in the sense that they did not capture Paris but it brought financial rewards as the King of the Franks bought off the Vikings. The Viking who became Duke Rollo was one of the Vikings who was present there. As usual I have tried to weave actual history with believable characters and action filled story lines. Sometime I have had to slightly change dates but the essence of the book is true to the actual events. The next book may well be the last and so there will be a slightly longer gap before I write it.
The cover is particularly relevant. I know my eagle-eyed readers spot everything. Yes there is a rider with a cross but Rollo is not becoming Christian but when he becomes Duke Rollo he does convert. This story sets the seeds for that conversion. The cross and the priest are shadows in my story.
Excerpt
Sven and the others insisted that I slept in the hall. Although I slept well I was still awoken by the sudden storm which erupted in the middle of the night. It was the kind of storm which comes from nowhere and is as though the gods are punishing men. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed. The rain was so loud on the roof above me that it woke me. This was the sort of storm which made ships, far out to sea, disappear. It was a storm sent for a purpose. Restless I rose and went to the walls. The sentries had wisely taken shelter. Recklessly I stood on the walls and watched the sky lit by Thor’s bolts. I wondered if it had been such a storm which had touched Dragonheart’s sword. I was tempted to go for my sword and raise it. Perhaps I would have a magic sword. Then I realised it was not meant to be. When Dragonheart had had his sword touched by the gods he and his oathsworn had been about to be slaughtered. We were not in such danger. The storm had been sent to help us. The Bretons would be out there in this wild storm and they would have to endure it. They were Christians and they did not believe in Thor and Odin. We understood such storms and they did not. I went back to my chamber and took off my soaking wet clothes. I dried myself and dressed.
I built up the fire in the hall and found some cured pig meat. I cut two thick slices and placed them on a metal skillet. While they heated through I sought out some bread. There was some but it was stale. I cut some and placed them in the skillet with the pig meat. The rendered fat would soften the bread. By the time I had found ale the food was ready and I was eating it when Ubba found me.
“You are up early lord. Were you hungry?”
“No Ubba but the storm woke me. The gods have sent it. This day we defeat the Bretons. It has given me an appetite. There is more meat and bread. It is good. The Bretons know how to cure meat.”
The smell of the cooking meat woke others and soon men were arriving to cook their own food. The result was that, when dawn broke, we were all awake. We were all fed and dressed. Dawn brought brooding skies but the rain had stopped and the storm had passed. I led the men to the battle lines. The night sentries were relieved, “Go to the hall eat, sleep and rest. If we need you this day I will summon you.”
Sven Long Strider who had commanded the night guard said, “That storm made me worried, lord. Had I not had my hammer of Thor I might have fled. Trees were struck close to the Breton camp. Thor wishes us to win. Perhaps he does not like the White Christ.”
“Perhaps. We will see what the day brings.”
There was damage which we had to clear. Broken branches and debris created hazards. We left the hazards on the road but cleared them from our lines. We waited. If they were going to come then it would be sooner rather than later. Any reinforcements which were coming would now be slowed. I knew from experience what such a storm would do to a road. Debris and mud would slow up an army coming to the aid of their King. If the Bretons did not attack us then we would attack them and end this battle.
We heard their horns not long before noon. They were coming. From the walls of Valognes I heard Petr Jorgensen shout, “Lord, they are advancing. They have their horsemen dismounted and marching with their men.”
“Thin out the others with your arrows. We have the mettle to meet their metal this day!”
Bergil Fast Blade began to bang his shield and to chant.
Hrólfr and his Vikings march to war
See their spears and hear them roar
The Hrólfr and his Vikings with bloody blades
Their roaring means you will be shades
Hrólfr and his Vikings our best men
Hrólfr and his Vikings death comes again
Leading Vikings up the Breton water
They brought death they brought slaughter
Taking slaves, swords and gold
Hrólfr and his Vikings were the most bold
Hrólfr and his Vikings our best men
Hrólfr and his Vikings death comes again
Fear us Breton we are the best
Fighting us a fatal test
We come for land to make our own
To give young Vikings not yet grown
Hrólfr and his Vikings our best men
Hrólfr and his Vikings death comes again
Hrólfr and his Vikings our best men
Hrólfr and his Vikings death comes again
As Petr and his archers took up the chant, and, in the horse camp Erik and his men, the song seemed to roll around the town like the thunder of the previous night. It mattered not that they could not understand the words; it was the intent which would put fear in the hearts of the men advancing towards us.
The rain had spread debris on the road. The ditches along the side had flooded and mud now covered the surface along with puddles and pools. They were trying to come at us in a straight line but they could not maintain it. Some fell in the ditches. Others tripped and slipped when they walked in the mud and the puddles filled with hidden obstacles. We had not cleared the bodies and their own dead hampered them. They neared us but it was not the formation their King had envisaged. It was a ragged line. We, on the other hand, had a solid line of spears, swords and shields. I was the only one who did not use his shield. I would rely on my Longsword and Bjorn and Leif. The more we had fought together the more accomplished they had become. My height meant I could swing above their heads and my two warriors’ shields protected most of my chest.
The leader of the Bretons had a plumed helmet. His shield had a red boar upon it. He shouted, “Charge!” They ran at us. That in itself was a mistake for the surface was too slippery and their boots inadequate. Some fell while others slipped and, when they tumbled, were close enough for my men with spears to skewer them as they lay writhing at our feet. The leader and the men around him struck us together. My sword was already swinging as Leif’s shield took the first warrior’s spear. My sword hacked deep into his left shoulder. Bjorn stabbed the next Breton in the face with his spear but he, too, was struck by a spear. I swung backhand and smashed my sword through the shield of a third Breton, breaking his arm and knocking him to the ground. Ubba Long Cheek finished him off. All along our line men were engaged.
Sven Blue Cheek and Bergil Fast Blade were fortunate. They were close to the ditch next to the road and they had fewer men to fight. Sven Blue Cheek was a master of strategy. He could have led the clan had he chosen to. “Charge!” He led Bergil Fast Blade and his men into the flank of the men we were fighting. They were attacking their right sides and they had no shield there to protect themselves. In close combat their spears were a hindrance and Sven and his opportunist attackers wreaked havoc. From the walls of Valognes Petr and his men rained arrows on those behind the mailed warriors but what decided the battle that day was the charge, through Valognes north gate, of Erik and his horsemen. They exploited the gap created by Sven Blue Cheek.
All the pressure was in the centre. As I had expected King Alan had wanted me dead and the Bretons who charged at us were determined to kill me. Our spears were shattered and Leif, Ubba and the rest had to use swords. Sámr Oakheart and Ragnar the Resolute used the woods to our right to infiltrate around the other flank of the Breton attack. As Bjorn was struck in the helmet and fell I swung my sword in a wide arc which made the attackers before me recoil. Two were too slow and died. In that momentary breathing space, I saw that King Alan had defeated himself. By sending his best towards me my horsemen, Sven’s attack, allied to Sámr’s, had destroyed the rest of their army. As the farmers and levy fled my men turned to surround the hundred or so warriors trying to get at me. They had nowhere to go. They could have surrendered but they feared our vengeance and so they fought on. It was to no avail. Their circle shrank and the Breton bodies mounted as we whittled their numbers down. It took time for they were mailed but when the last one was slain my men cheered and called my name.
“Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson, Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson, Göngu-Hrólfr Rognvaldson!”
