A Viking Tale

By William Buckel

Wolf, the Norse King, is a scoundrel and a thief. He steals the contents of an English Lord's tax wagon claiming they stole it from peasants and the church so he merely robbed thieves. He abducts a beautiful young woman, Abigail, then tries to convince her the change will do her good. He has an uncanny ability to justify anything he does and she has a fiery temper not letting him take control.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Buckel
• Release date: Jun 9, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476335285

William Buckel

I, William Buckel, am a writer of Fiction and Fantasy. I'm an ongoing student of history having written several historical novels. I live with my dog, north of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The morning mist hugged the ground disturbed only by the movement of the horses’ hooves on the hard packed road beneath. Lord Sandow’s black mare was up on her hind legs frantically pawing the air impatient with the slower procession not far behind. Except for the dark grey armour and helmet the young Lord was dressed completely in black, a long black cloak covering himself and most of his horse’s back. He grasped the reins with both hands, clad with thick woven gloves. His helmet was small covering only the top of his head and ears allowing his long black hair to flow beneath.

Sandow scanned the horizon and forest seeking far off signs of danger. With his right hand he tapped the hilt of his broad sword then his dagger, a too frequent habit to make sure the weapons were seated. Sandow let his spirited mount gallop to the top of the next hill where he waited.

Sandow’s soldiers followed not far behind, wearing the Earl’s colours and riding the Earl’s mounts. Their pace was governed by the wagon creaking under the heavy load of gold and copper coins. They’d visited sixteen villages so far and had only one more stop.

The procession guarded taxes collected from peasants who received nothing in return but the right to live and work another year. Greed and lust had ruled Europe for a thousand years and would for a thousand more.

The sun hid behind the hazy sky as they made their way down the winding road to the coastal village of Talamar. There were twenty-nine men in all counting the young Lord, ample to guard the tax wagon as long as they avoided an ambush. The forest was quite sparse close to the coast and soon disappeared altogether making way to grassy fields. The cool ocean breeze fanned the tall grass in harmony with the whitecap waves lapping against the distant shore. On a slope overlooking Talamar he studied the collection of stone buildings randomly scattered along the coast far enough away from the channel to escape the tides and the pounding winter waves. He called for his second in command Ivan.

Take two men and look around.

Ivan and two soldiers galloped down the hill to the tiny hamlet. After a long wait Ivan waved to signal his approval and the small army moved to the village, the smell of the sea strong in the air. A soft silky drizzle fell to the ground as the procession moved along the road. People ventured from doorways cautiously gazing at the encroaching army, knowing full well they were not here to give but to take.

Talamar consisted of over two hundred inhabitants. Although the villagers outnumbered the soldiers they cowardly moved out of their way. They were fishermen, boat builders, traders that had never used a weapon in their lives; not even carrying a dagger, fearing they might be challenged for doing so.

Each soldier carried a sword and a bow strapped to his saddle. The arms and fear of the Earl’s army kept the peasants humble during collection of the levy. Lord Sandow was here to extract the Earl’s portion of the meagre harvest the fishermen were able to reap from the unwilling sea. Toby the only man other than Sandow who could read, write, and count had the task of updating the ledger. They both sat down at a table in the village square. Toby kept the tally and Sandow watched the proceedings, a judge, and the final word on the amount owing the Earl.

The village head man was the first to pay; a proud man who bitterly paid the tribute and tried to hide his contempt. Others followed bowing at the waist, animating their approval. They were men being robbed not wanting to provoke the perpetrators. The process went as always without incidence.

Ivan and the two men assigned to him were still searching the village searching for anything that would indicate the inhabitants had something to hide. Two days ago he had found a barrel full of gold cups, silver plates, and jewellery studded silverware all belonging to a church attempting to feign poverty. Sandow took everything as a fine for trying to cheat the levy, more gold and jewellery than Ivan had ever seen before. He found no indication of wealth here, only the opposite. These peasants were poor as beggars. The fish they caught sustained them but brought little income needed to purchase items of value. Yet despite that he kept searching not wanting to be caught in error. Ivan feared Sandow as did all the men under him. The ambitious Lord would punish any man who disappointed him, so Ivan kept searching.

A rather large man paid his levy and moved to his left exposing a beautiful woman behind. A shockwave ran through Sandow, his face flushed, his pulse quickened, and all he could do was stare. She had a pretty face framed by blondish red hair and gazed at him through hazel eyes. The young woman was wearing a clinging one piece dress, nothing fancy but in it she had the look of a queen. The woman smiled at him boldly. Sandow realized that he must appear a fool and dropped his head downward to turn away then after a small laugh smiled back at her. Showing no hesitation she paid the family tribute.

My name is Abigail Links my Lord. I have only twenty-six copper coins, not the twenty-eight you require. I hope that is adequate until my father returns.

Sandow stared into her eyes and shot a quick grin her way,

Toby, please update the ledger to twenty-six coins. It will suffice.

Thank you my Lord, said Abby.

Sandow was not able to stop himself from watching her walk away.

Abby walked away without looking back but she could feel his eyes on her. Abby was on fire inside. Those green eyes, his dark hair, that warm handsome face and the dreamy smile was too much for her not to be impressed. Abby had seen him freeze and knew she had an effect on him as well. It had been hard for her to remain composed; she felt like giggling but was able to stop herself. The young lord was her dream come true if God so willed. Please God, Please God she thought then slowly walked away.

Abby had turned eighteen last month, well past the age when women wed. There were no young single men in the village unless one counted a fisherman who loved his wine a little too much. The villagers would bet on how long before he fell overboard and his ship drifted into shore without a soul onboard. She was in no hurry to wed and would bypass men such as those. Her parents gave her free choice and did not try to push her out of their home perhaps due to the fact she was an only child after the death of her brother. A death in the immediate family strengthens bonds, fearing another loss.

As Abby neared her house three soldiers approached her, the one leading smiled and said, Hello my pretty, my name’s Ivan, what’s yours.

Abby looked in his eyes and seeing only lust walked around him saying nothing.

My, My, what a looker, Abby heard him say on her way down the road, afraid to look back.

Wolf stood at the bow of his Dragon Ship staring intently at the coastline before him wondering what lay ahead. His right hand grasped the tall wooden beam with the carving of a dragon’s head mounted on top. The dragon symbol at the bow of many Viking ships was a guardian that would lead a vessel through the mist and defend against demons therein. Today there was little mist and no demons, the skies were clearing, the winds favourable as he approached the Anglo-Saxon shore.

It had been a long winter in Norrland, Sweden and would be followed by a short growing season. There would not be enough food for the upcoming winter so he did as his father before him; set sail to conquer and return with ample booty for the year.

The coastal villages were fortifying their defences against raids making attacks on them more perilous. Wolf sensed the days of the Dragon ships were nearing an end. The small village where he would land had no soldiers and consisted mainly of fishermen. Wolf’s father had told him two years ago that there existed a church rich in treasure not far from the hamlet. Wolf’s father lost his life in search of it; he had seen him die at the hands of a priestess. Wolf returned again this year to finish what his father had begun. He had a crew of thirty-four and hoped the number sufficient as that was all the fighting men his village could spare.

Wolf beached his ship south of the hamlet so that he would not be seen. The ship was robust enough to withstand the pounding of being driven into shore. Later it would be pulled off the sand and the sail set making for a quick escape if needed.

Ashore on a narrow stretch of beach Wolf looked at the rocky hill before him. Further north were sheer rock cliffs and south the shores turned into beaches. They climbed the slope and cautiously peered over the edge as though an army lay in wait on the other side of the hill. Waiting for them was a field of high grass, the winds creating sparkling waves in the midday sun. Sparse woods sprang up not far beyond. They quickly made their way to the bush and felt secure moving through the shadows using the trees for cover.

Wolf was always in the lead waving the others forward. He knew it would take only one person aware of their presence to alert the village. The villagers would then either flee into the woods to the north, valuables in hand, or fight. They might alert a not too distant castle which would send troops to deal with the threat. Either way the situation could get difficult so he would have to call off the raid, return to the ship, and choose another target.

They were not here to raid the village but to find the church which contained centuries of donations, centuries of wealth. The villagers would, however, never believe their lives were not in peril. There was always value in people be they poor or wealthy: slaves were worth gold in any non Christian country. Wolf was not a slaver.

With caution in mind Wolf moved to the top of another hill but this time on the other side there was an army, not in wait for them but amongst the villagers. He saw the largest congregation of soldiers in the village square, a few others moving in and out of the cottages. Wolf glanced back giving his crew a hand up signal to halt. They acknowledged and disappeared into the bush. Wolf studied the proceedings: he saw a table, two men sitting at it, a line up, and then saw a soldier putting a bag into a wagon. They were tax collectors and the wagon would contain gold, silver, and copper coins. Was this the first stop on their route, the tenth, or somewhere in between? Was the wagon also a supply wagon filled with sacks of bread and dried meat? Or was it filled with sacks of coins? Too many unanswered questions crossed his mind: the distance between him and the wagon great.

Wolf counted three or four times to be sure and if all the men were in view there were less than thirty. He shook with excitement and uncertainty. His men outnumbered the soldiers but just barely, and the element of surprise would be on their side; but he could lose a lot of men. His crew was made up of village members and his friends. Wolf would not trade their lives for even ten wagon loads of gold; after all the welfare of his people is what brought him here in the first place. He decided to go back and talk to the crew especially his best friend Derak to get their thoughts.

There are almost thirty soldiers in the village collecting taxes and a wagon maybe full, maybe not so full of coins.

If it’s full we would have to raid twenty churches to get that much gold, said one of the crew.

One thing is for certain, if we move on them in daylight at least half of us will not live to see it, said Derak.

Wolf thought about the odds, his choices.

We will wait for nightfall and have another look, said Wolf.

Wolf and Derak peeked over the hilltop eyeing the proceedings.

The tax process wore on slowly, people hopelessly trying to cheat the tallyman. Time passed and sunset ended another day, the wagon fully stressed under the heavy load. Darkness was fast approaching and the soldiers would have to spend the night as moving the heavy wagon by moonlight would not be wise.

Sandow asked the village elders for food and refreshments to comfort his men for the night. Ivan was placed in charge and was told not to let the men mix with the villagers, it would probably cause trouble. He also asked the location of the house where a young woman Abigail was residing; there were some questions he had forgotten to ask. Sandow was given the information so set out for a small house at the edge of the village.

Ivan took command, posting four sentries on a two hour rotation well outside the camp so they would not be tempted by any of the young maidens watching them from the cottage windows. Ivan knew where Sandow was heading hearing him inquiring about the location of the young beauty that caught his attention in the square. It was always the way; Sandow took what he wanted and denied his men. Ivan searched all day finding nothing that could be of any danger to them so decided that a little more than his ration of wine was in order today; yes all the men would be given a double ration as it had been a long journey to date and a long road home still ahead. They would find at least a little comfort in this peaceful hamlet, a well deserved rest not half of what the young lord would take but something in any case.

Lord Sandow knocked at the door of the cottage, an older woman, Abby’s mother answered.

May I please speak to Abigail, there are details I neglected to get this afternoon? asked Sandow.

Of course my Lord, please come in, and she likes to be called Abby by the way, answered the woman.

Sandow waited while the old woman walked to the rear of the small house. Abby soon appeared in the doorway, his breath stolen from him by some unknown force. She was wearing the same dress as earlier. He could only stare into her eyes, time stood still. He was awakened by the sound of her soft pleasant voice.

What is it you wish of me my Lord? she asked.

It’s a beautiful night, Can we go for a walk and I will discuss a small irregularity my friend who keeps the ledgers has found.

Abby knew why he was here and was only flattered.

Certainly my Lord, she answered.

Please call me Damon, it is Damon Sandow.

As you wish Damon, she answered.

Sandow was feeling uncomfortable about his deception and realized he had nothing to say regarding the tax payment or anything for that matter. He ached to be with her, that was all.

Beautiful night, he said.

Sandow felt like kicking himself for his performance this night. His lack of charm was frustrating.

Yes beautiful, let’s walk down to the waterfront and listen to the ocean, she said followed by a giggle. Abby took his hand and he followed close by.

Sandow had nothing to say and wanted only to be with her, only wanted to hear the sound of her voice, only wanted to feel her touch.

The moon was nearly full lighting up the small whitecaps rushing to shore. It was a warm night but a cool breeze blowing their way from the channel made her shiver slightly. Sandow removed his cloak and wrapped her in it. They talked for an eternity drawing closer to each other; Sandow finally found his voice. He kissed her ever so slightly on her top lip. Abby did not pull away, only arching her back pushing herself into him and returning his tenderness with a warm embrace. They sat holding each other neither wanting to spoil the moment with words.

Wolf watched the campfires lighting the village square, the smell of cooking filling the air. Wolf saw a man dressed completely in black talking to another man then left. That would be the leader and the other man must be his second in command. The second in command sent four sentries outside the village to guard the square. The night dragged on; Wolf and Derak stared at each other in surprise as the soldiers appeared to be celebrating. They were laughing, drinking, and swapping tales around the campfire. Wolf thought it was totally unexpected from professional soldiers far away from their castle. The last of the men fell on his side a bottle dropping out of his hand. Wolf and Derak eyed each other, unbelieving, then snuck near and had a closer look. The four sentries appeared to be drunk therefore easily silenced. Wolf made the decision to take the wagon so sent Derak back for his men.

The four guards had been placed too far away from the main body of troops; poor leadership thought Wolf. As for the soldiers tightly packed together in one spot asleep, that was either stupidity or a trap. If it was a trap it would have been sprung when the sentries were killed, so the Vikings proceeded quietly.

The closer Wolf came to the camp the more certain he was about the success of his plan; there were empty wine bottles scattered throughout. On his signal each of his men tapped the soldier they were standing over with the point of their swords. The men jumped in surprise but only two were foolish enough to attempt a fight. They were quickly killed making the others more agreeable captives. Three more Vikings moved through the group securely binding the soldiers while the others stood over them with a sword at their throats. Wolf killed no one for pleasure or to set examples as there was nothing to be gained by taking the lives of the soldiers and peasants who like him were victims of the times. Conquer, take the booty and leave.

Unknown factors complicate the best of plans as Wolf was to find out. He concluded afterwards that one of the soldiers strayed to peek into cottage windows. An arrow hit Konor, one of his men. The soldier he was tying grabbed a sword and ran it into another of his men. Wolf was close so he pulled the dagger from his sheath and threw it piercing the chest of the soldier with the bow. The other soldier was instantly killed.

Wolf checked the wounds then told Derak to bandage them as best he could and take his two comrades onboard. Two men fatally wounded due to an oversight by him. Did he really expect to get away unscathed? He swore to himself then eyed the commander of the soldiers lying on the beach with a maiden. Anger rose not at the commander but at himself. He would have to live with his oversight for many days to come. He might take out his rage on the commander. One thing for certain: there was a price that would have to be paid for the wounding of his two men.

Lord Sandow felt the sharp end of a sword in the back of his neck. His mind was numb as he turned and eyed a tall man with a long blade staring down at him. Sandow glanced at his sword lying at his right leg then stared at the man with the blade and knew that he would surely be killed attempting to draw his weapon. Neither did he want Abby to be injured or killed as she was only inches away from him. The next move was not his so Sandow waited for further action from his attacker.

Wolf bent down to pick up the Anglo-Saxon’s sword keeping his blade at the neck of the soldier. He then pointed toward the village square. When Abby rose to her feet Wolf froze staring at her beautiful face, at her blondish red hair, and her hazel eyes. The young woman was an enchantress making him weak under her spell. Wolf took the leader back to the village with the others and bound him.

Wolf wanted the woman not knowing why. She was beautiful but he had seen women of equal beauty and was not moved by them as with her. When staring into her eyes he saw something no words or thoughts could explain. There were only feelings, strong feelings that he had never experienced before. His mind went blank and he felt a warm glow inside. Leaving without her would mean never seeing her again: that thought at this moment he could not live with.

On impulse and swayed by emotions he could not control Wolf ordered two men to take her. He could not find it within himself to leave without her. Wolf did not normally take slaves; he was not a slave trader. The English leader went insane as she was dragged off so Wolf hit the bound man in the head with the hilt of his sword and left. His men took the wagon to the ship and loaded the contents aboard. Wolf eyed the treasure knowing full well he had found the church’s wealth: gold plates, candle sticks, and jewellery studded silverware. The soldiers had taken it from the clerics and he was taking it from them. Had Wolf taken it from the church he would not have taken everything, only what was needed. The soldiers however were a different matter, being thieves themselves his conscience would not trouble him to take it all.

Abby was put in the hold below deck. The ship began to move and rocked gently, timbers creaking. She felt like screaming but what good would it do. It would only make her look weak and she would show them no fear. Abby had not been tied, there was nowhere to go. It was a small area and she was there alone with only a few crates to keep her company. Through the deck floor shafts of light pierced the darkness. A single stairway was the only way out, a hatch closed with a bang. She could hear muffled talk overhead and the shuffling of feet. The ship appeared to gain speed and would occasionally rock violently; knocking her to the floor so she remained seated. All Abby could think about was that every minute that passed she was being taken farther away from home.

Chapter 2

At the village Sandow cleared the cobwebs from his head. In the last light of the sun he saw a ship sail into the distance. A small fortune in taxes and the treasure stolen. Abby was also gone. Sandow knew the blame lay squarely on his shoulders. He had been so mesmerized by the woman he lost his instinct for survival and for the first time in his life was caught off guard. Normally he would have sent scouting parties to scour surrounding areas, but not today. Sandow would have split his forces into small groups covering each other and not one large group asleep in the village square. He had put Ivan in charge, a man never given a command and with good reason. His deployment of the soldiers invited disaster but Sandow in the end gave him command and was responsible for the fool’s actions. He had seen more in Ivan than was there, a mistake on his part. Ivan was a man who could carry out an order but not give one.

Sandow would have to return to the Earl and inform him of his failure. To set an example the Earl might send him on a hopeless campaign into the north and his death would be inevitable. Sandow assessed the situation: four guards were dead, six men lost in all, twenty-three left counting himself, no weapons, and no way to reach the perpetrators.

Within seconds his mood swung from self pity to rage; a rage as he had never felt, toward himself, the Vikings, and anything that stood in his way for revenge, return of Abby, and the fortune in taxes. He would find the savages, follow them wherever they went. Hunt down the Viking and kill him. Free the woman, whatever was required he would do. He could not return to the Earl with this failure. He could not live his life with this burden on his shoulders.

There was a larger village to the east with a dock where trading vessels could be found. Sandow immediately set out for the hamlet a day’s ride away with the intention of finding a ship to follow the Vikings. He had no money but would offer a portion of the taxes as payment. He would succeed one way or another even if he had to steal a ship.

Upon arrival Sandow found a vessel in the village. Dutch merchants unloaded its cargo. It was captained by a big man named Krugar who stumbled his way through the English language but was understandable. Sandow did not quarrel and quickly agreed that the price for following the Dragonship was one quarter of the booty. The Viking vessel was faster but the captain knew the coastline, where the Viking was welcome and where he was not. Sandow sealed their alliance with a handshake, having no other clear choice. Before leaving he found a merchant loyal to the Earl and rearmed his men. The merchant would receive payment from the Earl and would also give him a letter from Sandow explaining the situation. Whether the Earl approved was not a concern at this point, as it was all that could be done.

They set sail the following morning under clear skies and a fair wind: Krugar yelling orders to the Dutch crew. The captain was a forceful man and his crew followed commands without hesitation fearing his wrath. Without cargo, under full sail the ship rode high in the water and quickly gained speed cutting through the calm sea in pursuit of the Viking vessel. Lord Sandow was clearly out of his element and in the hands of the Dutchman but still had the balance of power as his men outnumbered Krugar’s.

The Vikings had two days head start but were unaware that anyone was following so the advantage of surprise would be theirs if they could catch them. The Norsemen would not be welcome in the Netherlands or in Denmark so they had a long journey to the northern Scandinavian countries where he was probably from. There were hundreds of fiords to which the Viking could be heading so a sighting or information would not only be helpful but necessary. Sandow had heard him being called Wolf by his men and carved on the side of his boat on the hull near the bow was the head of a dog, no a wolf. A fisherman had seen the vessel down the coast from Talamar and had given the description to Sandow. At least they had something a name and carvings.

The Dutchman pointed out the course on the map across the channel, along the French coast to the Netherlands then north to Skagerrak, a strait between Denmark and Norway. They would then stop at a port called Skegan friendly to them for possible information. Where to next if the ship was not spotted was anybodies guess. Hope and luck was all they had and they were both willing to gamble all on a slim chance that either would favour them.

Wolf’s ship The SeaHawk was called a knarr by his people and was a vessel used for carrying cargo on trade runs. It was unlike the Longships which were meant strictly for war and attack accommodating as many as thirty rowers per side. His vessel was wider, had a deeper hull, and a larger sail to catch the wind for the long sea voyages used by traders. It was about thirty paces long and almost ten wide. It took three women a year to weave the sail, his grandfather three years to build the hull.

The ship was constructed entirely from the tallest oak trees to be found in the nearby forests and was almost black in colour. Most Viking ships did not have a hold as they were of a shallow build and lacked the height. His grandfather built the ship somewhat higher and slightly wider so that it could accommodate a hold to keep trading goods dry.

Not all Viking vessels were built alike although the same general design was used. It only had three oars per side used for navigating around a harbour but could be used when there was a total lack if wind power. The ship could carry twenty-five men on deck and another fifteen packed tight in the hold.

Why did you take the girl? You never take slaves, asked Derak.

Derak was Wolf’s best friend since childhood. He had been a slave of his father’s but after his father’s death Wolf made Derak a free man. Under Norse law a slave could not own property, under Wolf Derak could own or do what he wanted. He was a free man and the one person who could question any action Wolf took, personal or otherwise. Derak was one reason Wolf took no captives until today.

She is not a slave, She is to be my woman, said Wolf.

This one time he hoped Derak would keep his mouth shut. He had no real answers, only deep emotions he had yet to explore.

You gave her no choice; she is a captive not a free woman.

I made a decision; we will wait and see what comes of it. I will talk to her.

Wolf hugged the coastline but not close enough to be seen, occasionally heading in until he could see the shore, then out to sea. The North Sea could be a bitter enemy and he would have to respect it. His heading was Denmark but knew he could not land there as he would be killed as a pirate or an outlaw. Wolf would then swing north to the Skagerrak strait around the tip of Denmark to a fiord northeast in Sweden where a friendly village lay. He would take on more food and water needed for the long trip home. The King of the village where he would stop was a friend of his dead father.

Wolf could remember as a boy taking his father’s dagger, then running to the woods fighting imaginary demons and when tired he stared at the weapon. He knew he was wrong to take it but could not return it. The dagger had some kind of hold over him, some strange attraction which linked him to a world of adventure and danger. It was as though he ascended to a higher realm of existence by clutching it. How could he give it up? Wolf sat in the waning sunlight thinking, knowing that in the end if not today then someday he would have to go home and in doing so return the dagger. He got up slowly, regretful of his actions and walked home to return the weapon.

On entering the house his father saw him and quickly said,

Oh, I see you have the dagger, I have been meaning to give it to you but I forgot. I hope you like it.

Wolf knew that his father had given it to him so that he would not feel like a thief. His father was long gone.

Wolf wished his father were here today saying, Oh, I see you have the girl, I have been meaning to give her to you but I forgot.

That would do nothing for her though as she would still feel lost. Truth told Wolf felt like a damn thief for taking the woman. The gold, he was entitled to as it was stolen property. And maybe he would return some of it to the church. One thing for certain the priests would have a better chance of getting some of the

Reviews for A Viking Tale

[jan · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Several storylines spanning two generations and squeezed into one book.