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Legends Never Die: Spoils (ch. 5)
🕑 Added 2022-07-26 14:37:24 +0000 UTCThere's a certain kind of indescribable terror that comes with watching a son charge the enemy with nothing even resembling fear. Eivor charged alone, driven forward by only the gods knew what while the rest of the men formed a shield wall with him at the head of it. Archers stood behind them, taking aim as they were lifted up by men who were left over. It was a strong position. A defensive position. Yet, Eivor charged forward towards the enemy as they rushed to them.
Like a wave crashing upon a stone, they broke upon his son.
Part of him was terrified that he was about to watch his favored son die. Another part of him was more proud than words could ever say. Because, in all of his life, he had never seen a man fight like his son did. With a single swing, Eivor cut the head off of a spear that flickered out like a serpent's tongue, before pressing forward, the edge of his shield slamming into the Saxon warrior's throat, crushing it and moving on to shatter a shield with a single stroke of his axe that dug into another warriors chest.
His son brought death to the enemy. Each movement was either a killing stroke, or it set up the killing blow. It was almost beautiful. No, it was a thing of beauty -- with the moon and stars overhead, the little light they gave made the water and blood shine weakly, letting all witness his son's glory. They watched his son advance across the bridge, killing Saxons all the way.
A horseman surged forward, only to be caught in the head with Eivor's axe. He dropped to the ground dead, forcing Eivor to pick up a dane axe from one of his fallen foes.
He killed a warrior with it. A single swing caught the man in the collarbone, cutting through ribs like they were soft bread, before severing his spine and cleaving all the way through. Erik, in all of his years, had never seen anything like it. He had been a member of Horrik's hird since he had been a boy. He had fought in more battles than he could remember, yet he had never seen anything like his son.
"Gods be good," Horrik muttered as his boy continued to advance. It had been only seconds, yet a score of men had been slain. Erik looked to his old friend, and saw him consider the situation and their position. Then he came to the same conclusion Eivor had at the start of the battle. "Charge! Charge! We must break through!" he shouted and Erik rushed forward to aid his son.
Eivor had nearly reached the other side of the bridge and he showed no signs of slowing down. The enemy, with their remaining numbers, formed up together to create a wall of bodies. Not quite a shield wall, but it was enough. Erik's heart stilled in his chest as they swarmed his son, trying to overwhelm him. Erik had never moved as fast as he did when his son briefly disappeared, enveloped by Saxons.
He slammed into their number, a furious howl ripping from his throat as he buried his axe so deep in a Saxon they would have to bury him with it. Letting go of its shaft he lashed out with a fist, catching a man in the side of the head shortly before Eivor reappeared and slammed an axe in his throat.
His boy was wounded, but it was impossible to tell how much blood was his and how much belonged to his enemies. His dane axe had been lost and he now wielded two bearded axes with deadly proficiency. Many Saxons laid dead at his feet, and while he had been encircled, they had failed to kill him. Erik screamed, letting his rage that they had dared to injure his boy flow through his veins as he fought. The rest of the warriors slammed into the remaining Saxons as the melee began in earnest. Eivor insisted on being the tip of the spear, pushing into where the fighting was at its fiercest and killing whoever got in his way.
There had been a good forty Saxons that had come from the curtain of the night. Erik was sure that his son killed at least half of their number single-handedly.
"Rahhh!" Eivor roared, using one axe to divert the head of a spear before lashing out with the other, severing a Saxon's head. He suddenly jerked his body back, an arrow whizzing by him, and it slammed into the unprotected flank of one of their warriors. The man dropped to the ground as Erik killed a man, spilling his guts with his axe. Eivor flung one of the axes in his hands, catching the archer in the head from over twenty favner away, before flinging his other axe to catch a horseman that had been prancing about, shouting orders in their foreign words.
The man fell with an axe in the shoulder, landing heavily. And, with the fall of their leader, the Saxons broke. Some fled, leaving their brothers in arms to die at their hands. In minutes, the battle was over, and Erik threw his head back to scream in triumph.
"Kill the wounded," Horrik ordered, clapping men on the shoulder as they took stock of their own injuries and losses. Of the fifty men that had sailed with them, they had lost ten in the attack on the village and the surprise attack after. Another three would not live to see morning, and five seemed to be sporting injuries of various degrees of severity. Meaning, in practice, they had thirty fighting men left.
"We will need slaves to help row," Erik remarked. Three ships that took a dozen rowers each. Horrik nodded.
"We will depart at once. Gather the slaves -- men and women, leave the children. They will only slow us down. Once we are safe, we shall make a sacrifice to the gods for this victory!" he shouted, earning a loud cheer from the men. It would also be a time to take care of their dead. In a lower voice, he spoke to Erik, "Your boy is blessed, Erik. Gods, I can't imagine what he will be like as a man grown. He killed near two scores of men alone."
Erik nodded, casting a look at his boy. He was tall for his age, but still shorter than a fully grown man. He would continue to grow up and out. All signs pointed to him being his equal in height. "I always feared that he would be too soft for battle," Erik admitted. It was as he said to Eivor -- the boy was soft in some ways. When he had first killed a deer, he had cried like a little girl. Blubbering until he was exhausted and fell asleep.
Time had hardened him, but he was still soft. The look on his face when he saw his Jarl dragging a woman away had told him all that he needed to know. Erik has feared that his son would hesitate in battle. That he would flinch at the cost of blood for victory. He hadn't. Not even close.
"He'll be a terror on the battlefield," Horrik said, and Erik knew that Eivor had found his favor. Perhaps as a member of his hird. It would be a good life for Eivor -- to act as a bodyguard of a Jarl. "Gods, he already is one."
Erik looked at his son, who was inspecting his wounds to find that they were light. He would sport some scars from his first pitched battle, but nothing that would impede his prowess in battle. Given that he had been surrounded…
"He was never like that with his brothers. He's always been a fine fighter, but… I didn't know he was capable of such a feat," Erik admitted to himself as Eivor began getting his axes. And the chainmail he hadn't bothered to wear.
"We will have much to celebrate when we return to Alabu," Horrik spoke. "As will we have much to discuss."
Erik fought off a smile as he nodded. The future of his family was secure.
…
I had leveled up during the battle, bringing me to level six. My Martial stat rose to five as well, increased by a huge leap in Tactics and Prowess. With the milestone in level, I was given an additional perk point that I could spend in the Martial tree. Given I still had the free one for reaching level five, I had two extra perk points -- one I could spend anywhere and the other I had to use on Martial.
For Prowess, I had a leftover choice of Steady Hands, which would make sure my aim would never waver. I also had two new choices of Shatter Defense or Unbreakable Guard -- the former would ensure that no one could block against my attacks. The latter made sure no one could touch me when I was actively blocking.
Given that I had a good dozen nicks and cuts across my body, I chose Unbreakable Guard. Power Attack more or less did the same thing, so stacking offense wasn't necessary.
For Tactics, I had reached my first milestone, giving me a choice between Inspiring Leader, Aggressive Attacker, or Stalwart Defender. Each increased morale when I fought, either as a leader at the head of the army, when I was attacking, or when I was defending. Given the customs of my people, the choice was obvious so I went with Inspiring Leader. The extra Martial point wasn’t spent on anything for now in the hopes I could spend it on a better perk down the line.
The battle had also given me a bump in a feature I had used so little of that I almost forgot that it existed -- Prestige. It hovered at zero for so long that when it jumped to twenty, I almost couldn't believe my eyes. It didn't give me anything, though. I was still in the realm of the unknown, but it was better than nothing.
I also went ahead and picked Fast Counter for my Stewardship perk. It would have come in handy during the battle, and I knew it would in future battles.
"Ship," I said, speaking Germanic, repeating after the Saxon man that we had captured. The hull of the ship had been filled to the point of bursting -- plunder taken from the village, but mostly with food and animals… and people. Most of which rowed the ships tirelessly since we had a North-facing wind on our voyage back home.
The one I was speaking to was resting while I rowed in his place. Given that I was at sea, my daily quest had changed to rowing a certain number of miles. The Saxon man was all too willing to let me row for hours on end in exchange for learning his language.
"Yes, this… ship. Ship on sea," the man said, and I had underestimated just how powerful Polyglot was. It had been three days since I started learning, and already, we could communicate easily enough. We went through the basics -- who, what, when, where, why. Then common phrases like gods be with you. Now he was giving me words like sheep, chicken, person, warrior, ship, ocean, river, water, and so on. At the rate I was going, it would only take a week before I was fluent in Germanic. "Where do we sail to, my lord?"
"Not a lord," I told him, "We're sailing to Alabu," I told him, continuing to row. Annoyingly, I had to go the pace of the others, which felt sluggish. Though, I did get an idea of where I lived now. The northern part of Jylland, the river that flowed through the top of it, making the tip of Denmark an island. Alabu was seated on the eastern end of the river. My scope of the world had expanded considerably.
"What will be done there?" he asked me, staring straight ahead. "I - slave?"
I repeated the word, and he clarified that he said 'become'. In response to his question, I glanced at Jarl Horrik, who hadn't stopped being happy since we had left. I think he had remained drunk since we set sail, honestly. Looking back at the man, I nodded, "Probably," I told him, not mincing words.
He let out a sigh, "With luck, I will find a kind -." he said, and I'm guessing the word he said meant master. I'm also sure that he was dropping a hint for me to pick up that he hoped that I would buy him, but I didn't give him anything in response to make him get his hopes up. The money I had, I had plans for. And it wasn't to buy slaves. "It is not a bad life. A hard one, true, but not a bad one. Though, I would have - fallen at your blade in battle. It would have been an honor."
A sentiment that was being shared by others. Since the battle, I was getting a lot more respect from everyone else. Not that I had been disrespected before, but more… easily dismissed because of my age. Now, when I spoke, people listened. I was included in the various games to pass the time and treated as an equal. Something Father allowed, because he had stopped hovering. Though, that was probably because he was given command over one of the other ships.
I was respected now. Just because I was a great warrior. It felt almost hollow, in a way. I couldn’t even really put a finger on why, just that it did.
"It would have been an honor to face you," I returned, mostly to not make things awkward. And, based on the slight smile the man wore, he suspected as much.
“Better you than the Franks,” Wilfred, the man who was teaching me how to speak his language, remarked. “At least with you, I know the dead won’t be cursed by their Christian god.” he said, muttering bitterly under his breath. My ears perked up at that.
“Franks? Christians?” I questioned, making him nod with a scowl on his face.
“Aye. Their king has all but taken over Saxony. He would be king of it in truth if it wasn’t for King Widukind fighting against him. He fights where he can, but… those Christians and their dead god won’t rest until every ‘heathen’ is either baptized or dead. They seem to prefer dead,” Wilfred answered, his tone dark.
Who would worship a dead god? That didn’t make any sense -- a dead god couldn’t do anything. They were dead. What power could they have then?
Wilfred turned his gaze to Jarl Horrik, his eyes narrowing. “Your leader should have gone further west. The Franks are the true enemy to us and our ways. King Sigfred would do well to ally with King Widukind. It’s the only hope that Saxony has to casting off our invaders… and when we fall, so shall your homeland.” He said with a shake of his head, more disappointed by politics than he was at being enslaved.
I didn’t tell him I didn’t even know that I had a king. I had absolutely no clue who King Sigfred was. No one said anything about Jarl Horrik swearing fealty to anyone, so maybe he wasn’t my King? The matters of kingdoms and Jarldoms were so far above me that I couldn’t even see them. I don’t know if that said more about them or more about me.
However, his words did give me a rising concern -- I had no clue if what he said was true or not. Was my homeland in danger of being invaded? Should I fear the Christians and their god? Saxony sounded like a vast kingdom when I heard people speak of it, but it had fallen to the Franks. From the sounds of it, they suffered horribly.
A horn blowing caught my attention as I looked to Jarl Horrik. He smiled down at me, "We're home to be celebrated as heroes!" he said as we continued to row, a shoreline that seemed familiar appeared as we headed to the gulf of it, traveling up the river. I kept my eyes on the shoreline, and in no time at all, I saw a familiar coast from a different point of view. Though, sadly, I didn’t see anyone as we passed our home. Father seemed to share my disappointment. We continued upstream and there, I saw the city of Alabu.
And celebrated as heroes we were. A crowd had gathered at the docks when they spotted our ships, people cheering loudly when they saw how full the ships were when we made landfall.
There were some devastated to hear that their loved ones had fallen. Including a heavily pregnant woman, but they soothed themselves with the thoughts that the fallen were feasting in Valhalla. In total, we had lost fifteen men. Ten in the battle, then another five had died of their wounds on the way back.
We were ushered into the longhouse as others unloaded the ship. The longhouse was absolutely packed, and a feast was starting with Jarl Horrik front and center. "The gods granted us great wealth. Odin himself gave us a sign of the village that we raided, then Thor gave us a challenge to prove that we deserved our loot! More than a hundred Saxons came pouring from the forest -- I know not if that was their home, or if they had the same idea as we did!" There was a cheer at that as he ridiculously inflated the number of Saxons by more than half. "We were all caught with our pants down, some more literally than others!" Another cheer intermixed with laughter.
"Eivor, come up here," Jarl Horrik said as I sat at the long table, next to my Father. He told me to expect this. I was being honored. And he also told me what I had to do.
He called it a game. Politics. It didn’t seem like the kind of game I enjoyed playing.
People patted me on the back as I walked towards the Jarl, one wife seated next to him in a throne while an older woman, though still on the young side, stood next to his vacant throne. He stood up, smiling wildly for all to see. "This here is Eivor! Some of you might recognize him because of his bastard father!" he said good-naturedly, earning a laugh from Father. "He was here just a few days ago to become a man. Now, I will be honest with you -- when I heard little Eivor here had killed a dozen men, I harbored doubts." he said, raising a tankard as he made a face.
"I thought to myself 'What boy could kill a dozen fully grown men?' I thought perhaps it was an exaggeration! Just like I told you all it was a hundred Saxons!" He revealed the fib, much to the crowd's enthusiasm. "Just as I will every time I tell the story! By the year is out, we will have faced three armies at once!" The crowd was eating it up as I approached, people slapping me on the back as I did.
He was good with people, I thought to himself. He knew exactly how to whip a crowd up. He could say anything on that stage, and they would be eating out of the palm of his hands. I saw why he was a longstanding Jarl for nearly thirty years -- an old man in a profession where most would have died years ago.
"But, let me tell you this, people of Alabu -- there are no false words when I say that Eivor turned the tide of the battle single handily. Never in my life have I seen a warrior as fine as him. When the Saxons attacked us from behind, Eivor alone broke their charge over the bridge. He killed them as easily as a farmer cuts grass, and they fell just as easily. So great of a warrior he is that the Saxons practically ignored fifty veteran warriors, seeing Eivor as the greater threat!" he paused, allowing the crowd to cheer so loudly it felt as if they were going to shake the building apart.
The warriors began to stomp in a rhythm, prompting others to do so. Soon the entire hall was stomping in unison, shaking the earth as they cheered. My renown climbed higher by the second. All their eyes were on me and I became very aware that I didn't have a nice tunic on or anything, and my hair was a mess. And that I hadn't bathed in two days since I got all of the blood off.
"For this reason, Eivor will be given a share and a half of the loot," Jarl Horrik decided, and the warriors I had fought with cheered in approval. "This is for his deeds in the battle. Yet, I suspect that this is just the start of his saga. And how could I not want to be a part of it?!" The crowd cheered until Jarl Horrik raised a hand to quiet them down.
"Erik! Stand up, you bastard!" he shouted, making Father stand up. "My friend, you have served me well. As a warrior, I have always been able to trust you with my life. As a friend, I have always trusted you to be honest. As a servant, you have always provided me with your dues, without fail." Father straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "You have many sons. I have many daughters. Most have been promised to others, but my youngest, Gunjill, has had her betrothal broken by the death of her promised. In sight of all of you, my people, I would like to bind our families at last -- my youngest daughter to your youngest son."
I was getting married? I blinked at the turn of events, caught flatfooted. Father too, by the looks of it.
A girl was brought out, and she seemed to be a few years older than me. Dark brown hair that was tied off into a long braid, a round face while her blue eyes had a greenish hue to them. She was dressed nicely, telling me that this had been planned. She offered me an uncertain smile, seeming to take me in as much as I was her. I smiled back, mostly because I wasn’t sure what else to do.
"Nothing would please me more, my friend. Let our families be bound by marriage and blood," Father spoke, his voice echoing out as I was betrothed just like that.
That… happened fast. I feel like I just got whiplash. The girl, Gunjill, walked over to me and was placed by my side. We shared another look and I saw that we were around the same size -- me being tall for my age with her being a bit short.
"Her dowry shall be a farmstead -- fifty acres of land rich with game and soil," Jarl Horrik decided, looking at me with a smile. "The marriage will happen when she comes of age, giving you some time to give my daughter a worthy bride price. You will work the land, and all the wealth that it produces until the marriage takes place will go to her bride price." he told me, so I had about two years before we were wed. It also meant that I would own fifty acres -- some farmland, some forest by the sound of it. As far as a dowry went, it was an insane one. Farmland was incredibly valuable and I was gifted a farm greater than my family currently had.
I bowed my head, "Thank you, my lord. I will give her a price that she deserves. And I will prove worthy of the favor you've given me. I swear it," I said, reaching out and grasping my armband. That got a wider smile out of him and a curt nod.
"Good! Then let us celebrate our return and the betrothal of my daughter!" He shouted, causing the hall to cheer again. The celebrations resumed in full swing, with even more reasons to party harder. I ignored it all for a moment to look at Gunjill, who looked back at me with wide eyes.
She mustered up the will to speak first, “You can call me Jill,” she told me offering a smile that looked like it was going to shatter with the slightest touch. She was uncertain. Not quite afraid, but I was getting the impression that this had been sprung on her as much as it had been on me. “Everyone else does. Father… likes to name his daughters with Gun in the name, so… it’s easier to… tell us apart…” She trailed off, sounding like she wasn’t sure if she should have volunteered the information.
“Jill, then,” I said, offering her with a smile that I hoped would put her at ease. I knew I would be married one day. It was the responsibility of every man to marry and have babies, then teach their children and possibly grandchildren what it meant to be a man. However, that always seemed so very far away. I never expected to get married so soon. Much less to a daughter of a Jarl. I… had absolutely no clue what I should be doing with myself, and the fact that I didn’t seemed to make her more and more uncertain. “I hope we get along? I… promise I won’t ever mistreat you. I… would like it if you were happy?” I said, each word feeling like a mistake as I said it.
However, my clumsy attempts to reassure her seemed to work. Somehow. Jill offered a small, yet honest smile before she was urged away at the behest of a servant, “I would like us to be happy too, Eivor,” she told me as she was led away, while I was urged to the feasting table. I think that was a good start, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it.
I was seated in a place of honor with my horned cup never dropping below half empty with mead. The celebration was in full force when I found Jarl Horrik speaking to me. I wasn't completely drunk, but I was drunker than I had ever been before. I only realized that he was speaking to me about halfway through a sentence, “-feast?” he asked, and my slow blink was an answer in itself.
He let out a bark of laughter, “I had forgotten your age, lad. But, it is a good thing to be drunk!” he said with a joyful laugh, clapping me on the shoulder hard enough I nearly fell out of my chair.
“Why…” I started, only realizing that I had spoken after the word left my lips. He looked to me and I forced my tongue to obey. “...did you give me fifty acres of land? That’s… a lot…” I muttered, blinking away the haze that was making my vision glaze over. Jarl Horrik gave me a lingering look for a moment. A glint in his eye that almost appeared… calculating.
Farmland was valuable. Good farmland even moreso. Fifty acres of it was an incredible amount of land, especially for someone my age. All because of one battle. It didn’t make sense. Something wasn’t adding up. And I might be a little drunk, but that fact wasn’t lost on me.
Jarl Horrik took in a deep breath before he gestured for a slave to fill my cup again, “Were you ever taught what a bride price is for?” he asked me, answering my question with a question of his own. I opened my mouth to answer, but he continued on, not giving me the time. “It’s security for the wife. It’s a means to provide for herself should the husband fall in battle or fall ill. So, it can be said that the bride price is a measure of a man. Because a man’s worth is determined by how well he can provide for his family.” Jarl Horrik spoke slowly and in a low voice, letting the sounds of a feast drown him out so only I could hear him.
“Your father has a large family,” he spoke, and I gave him my full attention. “The gods favor him -- most of his children reached adulthood. That is a very rare thing. However, it means he is saddled with a large family to provide for. The farmstead cannot support such a large family. It’s simply too small for me to receive my dues. Your wealth is supplemented by hunting game, fishing… and selling the excess barely, oats, turnips, and onions.” Jarl Horrik offered me a smile and I very quickly began sobering up.
“You see the contradiction then? Good. I can’t stand men who drink until their wits are addled,” Jarl Horrik said, giving me his cup to drink from. It was not filled with mead or ale. It was filled with water. “Your farm struggled to meet the dues for many years. More than once, your father dipped into his hoard to cover the difference because your family, full of growing men, were in danger of going hungry. I know that because the people he bought the food from report to me. Which is why it was so surprising that your father in the past years has not only not purchased any foodstuffs… but had begun to sell his excess.”
I swallowed thickly, and it was as if the entire room was fading away despite the noise the celebration made. I hadn’t known that. As far as I knew, the farm was producing enough to feed us all and give our dues without any need to buy anything. Father had lied to us, in that regard. Or, at least to me. But I couldn’t get angry. He prioritized feeding us over making sure he had enough to pay the taxes, then used the money he was hoarding for Valhalla so we wouldn’t lose the farm.
There weren’t many that would do the same.
“It’s a test?” I questioned, earning a nod from Jarl Horrik.
“You’ve already proven that you’re a mighty warrior despite your age. I meant what I said, Eivor. In a few years’ time, when you become a man in body, you are going to be a terror on the battlefield. What I want now is for you to show what your measure is as a man -- as a husband to my daughter, whom I love very much,” he told me outright as he reached out and took his horn of water back. He brought it to his lips before having a servant fill it. “So, I want you to work the land and show me what kind of life you can provide for my daughter.”
I had the sinking suspicion that he wasn’t saying something, or leaving something out, but I couldn’t figure out what it was for the life of me. Leaving me with nothing more than a disconcerting feeling…
And a thought that Jarl Horrik was a far more cunning man than anyone gave him credit for.
Comments
Adrian Gorgey
Ready for some rapid farm development lol
