Frey's Saga

By L.K. Hill

The year is 850 A.D. In England, an orphaned boy is taken from the safety of a monastery by a group of Vikings and is whisked away to Norway to be the thrall of the jarl's son. Through his trials and triumphs, he is eventually freed and becomes a trusted member of their society. He even befriends a berserker along the way

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477144664

L.K. Hill

L.K. Hill is a lifelong Connecticut resident. After attending community college, she married and raised two sons. Getting tired of retail jobs, she trained and became a certified nurses aide, focusing on homecare. But her lifelong interest was writing and The Viking World, so she decided to write a book about them. This novel is her dream come true, and may your dreams become a happy reality.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Thornulf Haakonsson smiled cruelly in his red-blond beard as his men smashed in the monastery door. From the looks of it, that door was old, which meant that this would have been the first time this particular monastery had been attacked. That meant that he and his band would be the first Norsemen there. The looting should be excellent. Christian temples, for so he thought of them, had silver, wine, salt, cloth, and a variety of other useful or expensive items. Sometimes he and his men had even found gold coins and jewelry. One good haul could keep the families of everyone in his band comfortable and fed for the coming year.

The monks retreated and stood solemnly and silently in a line facing the invaders. Brother Tibbs, who had traveled widely in his youth and knew some Norse, stepped forward one pace and asked, What have we done to be treated in such a manner?

Thornulf laughed ferociously, We take whatever we want! With that, he rammed his longsword into Brother Tibbs’ belly.

Frey screamed as he awoke from this nightmare, with cold sweat pouring down his face. He then leaped out of his cot just as Brother Tibbs came running into his cell.

My boy, what in heaven’s name happened? You were screaming like a banshee!

Frey looked at Tibbs with relief mixed with the fading remnants of terror from his dream, grabbed him, hugged him, and wouldn’t let go. I dreamt that a band of Vikings came here to raid the monastery, and when you asked why, their very large leader simply laughed as he killed you.

Tibbs reassured Frey that everything was fine, and that he was alive and well. You have a wonderful way of waking up an old man in the middle of the night! Tibbs chuckled after his comment, and so did Frey. We have a busy day tomorrow and we’ll need our rest, so try to get back to sleep, boy. I’ll stay here until you nod off.

Frey lay back on the pillow and was soon fast asleep. The pre-dawn morning bell rang all too soon, and Frey hurried to get ready for Matins, the first devotion of the day.

Frey enjoyed his time with his friend, and Brother Tibbs was pleased that Frey had found a new interest other than reading and studying. As the months passed, Frey would think of the many things he had learned at the monastery, and he considered himself a lucky young man. He had completed his novitiate and was now a full Brother, tonsure and all. It was good to have family again. Then came the gray dawn when frantic footsteps of sandaled feet pounded along the narrow dormitory hallway, hoarse yelling echoed from the walls, and someone shouted, We’re under attack! Vikings! Hide the holy vessels! Hide the crucifix!

Tibbs scrambled to Frey’s cell shouting, Quickly, boy, follow me! They ran to the chapel on the sea side of the monastery, dashed inside, and barricaded the door. Tibbs grabbed the Bible from its pedestal, kissed it, and gave it to Frey, Guard this with your life! Tibbs took down the golden crucifix and hid it under his brown robe, tucking it up under the robe belt so that it wouldn’t fall from its hiding place. Meanwhile, the Vikings had smashed through the barricade. Frey and Tibbs could hear shrieks and screams coming from the courtyard as their brothers were being butchered or captured as slaves. Frey tried to not hear what was going on. This was all too similar to when his family was killed, before he came to the monastery.

Tibbs motioned to Frey to follow him to the old tapestry, which hung on the wall behind where the crucifix had been standing. He pulled one corner of the tapestry up, revealing a small crawlway, which led to a narrow stone staircase, which in turn led to a dark tunnel. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, but Frey heard the sound of ocean waves and smelled salty air. As they came to the tunnel’s mouth, they could see sunlight shining in past a giant boulder, which was set just in front of the tunnel opening, camouflaging the escape route. Both men slipped past the boulder, but standing there waiting for them were four very tall, large, bearded men.

The largest of the Norsemen abruptly barked, What gifts have you brought us this day? He then grabbed Brother Tibbs, shook him, and his fellows snatched up the crucifix, which clattered to the ground.

Yes, this will do nicely. We may spare your lives.

Brother Tibbs’ face flushed with anger. He fiercely demanded that the Vikings return what they had taken. These were God’s things, not his. The Norsemen laughed at him, clownishly mocking him with exaggerated gestures. They were all amused at this small weaponless man trying to be brave.

At that moment, Tibbs grabbed at the crucifix, which lay on the ground, shining bright gold in the sunlight. One of the raiders drew his longsword and chopped off his head. Frey quickly knelt down beside Tibb’s body with tears rolling down his face, What can I do for you? He seemed to hear a ghostly fading voice. It’s my time, my brother. Soon I will be with our Savior. Pray for me. Frey scooped Tibb’s body up in his arms and hugged him to his chest. His first friend in the monastery was gone. The leader of the four Vikings looked down at Frey with a satisfied grin. "Your god has betrayed you, while ours makes us rich and victorious! Now, what do you have hiding in your robe, little man?" The marauder bent over and grasped Frey’s robe, hauling him to his feet. He then patted the front of the robe, and feeling a square shaped object hidden in its folds, reached in and hauled out a thick book.

What is this? What kind of fool would take a worthless book and leave gold and silver behind? What are you, some kind of storyteller? He then continued, I could let you go, but since you have no wealth to offer me, I think you’ll come with us. I could use a storyteller. You’ll be a thrall in my household or maybe for my own son, until you’ve paid your ransom. The only hope you’ll have of freedom is to work hard and to please me, or my son with your tales. If not, I might just send you to join your friend in Valhalla.

Frey had no choice but to leave the monastery and his brothers behind. He slowly rose to his feet walked away looking down at Tibbs. Until I see you again, my brother.

Hey, pipsqueak, if we get bored on the way to your new home, then you could read us a funny story from that book of yours!

Trygve chuckled at his own lame wit as he handed the book back to Frey, who returned it to the protection of his robe. He had no choice but to follow the now loot-laden raiders down to the nearby inlet from the sea. As he came closer to the shore, he could see the wide wooden ships with their bows pulled up onto the shale beach.

Frey, closely followed by Trygve, hopped aboard the largest of the longships, and was told to sit down next to the mast support so that the crew could keep their eyes on him. Shortly after Frey was seated, more grinning booty-laden Norsemen hopped aboard the other ships, which then put out to sea.

All Frey could do during the long voyage to the lands of the Vikings was to sleep, pray, and eat the tough shipboard rations served to all. This was his first sea voyage and everyone laughed heartily when he hung his head over the rail and fed the fishes. They teased him for the rest of the trip home about being sick.

You’ll never be a seamen like us if only a few small wavelets make you throw up! To Frey, those small wavelets looked like mountains, and they’d made the ship pitch and roll in odd directions.

Frey finally was able to overcome his nausea after he was set to rowing. That kept his hands and mind busy, since he had to keep in synch with the other oarsmen. When the breeze picked up, he had to help haul on lines. The next day’s sail was almost exhilarating; gulls wheeled overhead, the sun warmed their backs and the Vikings were in a great mood, laughing and singing. The raid had been successful, and none of them had gotten so much as a scratch.

CHAPTER TWO

Trygve’s fleet sailed for three days, but to Frey it seemed as if it was an eternity. He tried to think of ways to escape, but drowning wasn’t an attractive option. The Norse crew had fun trying to intimidate him, but Frey simply smiled and pretended to not understand their antics. The men mocked Frey’s god, telling him that their gods in Asgard were much better. The story teller, as the crewman called him, was their entertainment. They had Frey tell them stories from his book, which he did. The crew didn’t realize that Frey was actually mocking them back as he narrated various parables, then asking them what they thought the stories were about.

Frey thought that some of the Vikings were living their lives according to parables, as their answers were closer to God’s word than that of Odin’s. At times, some of the men had lengthy religious discussions, which sometimes led to spirited arguments, but never blows. Surprisingly Frey took comfort in the fact that these men weren’t the demons that the monks had portrayed. These were fathers and sons who were simply ignorant of God’s word. He smiled as he quickly translated into Norse another chapter in his book. One of the men grabbed the book and tried to read it for himself but it wasn’t written in runes, so he shrugged his shoulders and handed it back to Frey.

The Norsemen would also sing songs to the strokes of the oars, so that time would pass more quickly. When Frey oared at times, he was paired up with a man who was somewhat shorter than the rest of them, but whose strength made up for his lack of inches. The two chatted as they rowed, and before long, Frey and Auger, for that was his shipmate’s name, had become friends.

Olaf, the skipper of the Wave-Steed, for so the longship was named, was a brutal, domineering bully. Auger and Frey tried to be inconspicuous as possible when he strode past them, a sneer on his lips. Olaf, of course, never laid a hand on an oar himself.

Frey’s hands, which had softened during his time at the monastery, developed large blisters thanks to the oar. These blisters soon broke, leaving large bloody patches on his palm and fingers. Auger told him to keep quiet about this, and Frey dipped his hands in salt water to clean them. Frey managed to not scream, but he did weep large salty tears as he bit his lips. Then Auger wrapped a piece of soft cloth around the oar handle to cushion it a bit. Still, Frey was in agony when he laid hands on the oar. Auger kindly put his strength to the oar, so that Frey could pretend that he was exerting himself. If Olaf found out about Frey’s hands, he probably would have thrown him overboard, hoping that a shark would get him.

This is the best I can do, Auger whispered to Frey when Olaf was busy elsewhere. I wish I had some comfrey salve to put on your hands. Comfrey is the best wound-healing herb there is.

Eventually, land was spotted ahead and the small fleet headed north along the coast toward its home harbor. The fleet commander, Trygve Arn’s son, was the first to beach the prow of his ship. Several of his crewmen headed toward the tiny village which lined the fjord’s northern bank. As Olaf’s ship headed toward the shale beach, Frey asked, What will happen to me?

Auger replied, You belong to Trygve now, and he will tell you when he’s not busy.

The rest of the fleet disgorged their crews and loot, and Auger led Frey over to the chieftain’s house. Trygve, of course, was not only the raid leader but was also the village chieftain. Frey was considered by all as part of the loot. As the men piled their booty inside Trygve’s longhouse, the chieftain kept a gimlet eye on everyone, making sure that nothing suddenly went missing. Then he beckoned Auger over, and asked him if he’d take charge of Frey for the nonce, since Frey’s hands had barely began to heal, which meant that he couldn’t be an effective worker. Auger agreed in an instant, forestalling Olaf, who had wanted to add Frey to his own group of thralls; after all, he’d been on Olaf’s ship for the voyage home. Olaf strode off with a sour expression on his face. Trygve’s men were too numerous for Olaf to contest the matter, but someday… someday… .

Auger put a hand on Frey’s shoulder. You’re coming home with me for now. Unn, my wife, will put healing salve on your wounds, and there’s a lot I have to teach you about life in this village.

When they had almost reached Auger’s home, two little girls, obviously twins, gleefully ran toward their father, hugging him fiercely about his knees. Auger laughed brightly, and introduced them to Frey, who went down on one knee and smiled at them. The girls were curious about Frey’s fuzzy tonsure, which was just beginning to grow out.

Frey was quite amused at their antics, and how a seemingly hard man like Auger had a lot of love and passion for his family. And yet, Auger had been involved in killing and maiming other people. This was quite confusing, but Frey knew that he wasn’t among the monks or even Christian folk anymore. He was beginning to slowly understand Auger, for it was clear that this man really didn’t care for a raider’s life. He just wanted to love his wife and children, and provide for them to the best of his abilities.

The girls scampered off ahead, while Auger and Frey continued toward home at a slower pace. It was a nicely built house with a steep turf roof and a large vegetable and herb garden to its right. There was a small animal pen to the left. The cow, goats, and sheep were out in the pasture for the summer. The pen was in dire need of repair, and so Auger told Unn that after they had eaten, that he and Frey would get started on fixing it.

Glorious smells were wafting out of the open door, and Auger rubbed his hands, trying not to drool openly. Unn laughed, for she had prepared a festival meal for her husband’s safe return. Set out on the oak table in the main room was a large wooden platter holding a very large roasted goose stuffed with thyme, onions, and garlic. In a basket next to the platter, there was freshly baked oat bread and some cheese. The smells alone were enough to drive Frey almost crazy, since shipboard rations weren’t exactly what one would call elegant. More like barely edible.

Everyone sat down to the welcome home feast, and the conversation flowed easily. Auger told of his latest adventure and the girls listened intently. Frey simply ate. This was the finest meal he’d had in many days. Afterwards, Auger leaned back in his chair, happily rubbing his full belly. Aaaah, what a good meal! I haven’t eaten so well in a long time. He then looked over at Frey, who was just finishing the last of his own portion. There were enough daylight hours remaining after the dishes were washed and put away, that the two of them could get started on fixing the animal pen Frey’s hands were barely scabbed over, so Unn smeared them with comfrey salve before wrapping then in soft strips of linen.

There was nothing wrong with Frey’s legs, though, so Auger hitched him up to log after log to haul them into the place next to the pen. He had to do all the axe work himself, but Frey could hold the wood steady with his legs and wrists while Auger worked. A few hours later, Auger set his axe down and said, Okay, boy, come with me, and I’ll show you were you’ll be sleeping. He showed Frey the part of the wing of the house in which the animals stayed during the winter. You’ll be sleeping here, Auger said, as he pointed to an area where fresh hay had been put down. Sleep well, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!

As soon as Auger left, Frey muttered to himself Well, things could be worse. I could have been sent to Olaf’s! He then shuddered, just thinking about it.

When the children were settled for the night, Unn and Auger went toward their sleeping area, where Unn had filled the large oaken tub with hot bathing water. They lovingly washed one another, dried off, hugged, and climbed onto their feather bed. Unn looked over at her husband, Come here, my wild animal.

The girls were just about to fall asleep when they heard the noise of muffled howling.

Did you hear that? Wild animals!

"When Daddy finds them, he’s going to give them such a spanking!"

Off in the distance, there was another howl, but it was muffled by the walls of the longhouse. No one inside heard it, not even the girls who quickly fell asleep, but the wild animals would soon be nearby.

CHAPTER THREE

The sun rose much too soon for Auger’s taste. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and neither had Unn.

Good morning, my love, he smiled at his beautiful wife, who blew a kiss to him. He leaned over and passionately kissed her, obviously hoping for more time with her. She pulled back slightly, Can’t you wait until tonight? I really do have to get up and feed our children, and my chores await. And I’m sure that you’d appreciate a nice hearty breakfast.

Until tonight, he said grudgingly but cheerfully.

After Unn had dressed and gone out into the main room, followed by Auger, she ladled out hot water from a large round soapstone pot, which was bedded down among the firepit coals. Husband and wife splashed the warm water on their faces and rinsed their hands, which finished the job of waking them up. She then poured hot water onto cracked oats and some bits of dried apple in a smaller pot, which was placed on a more actively burning site in the firepit.

Auger then headed over to where Frey had bedded down, and noticed Frey was still asleep. What was really strange was that the youth was holding a rock in one hand. He walked over to Frey, and pushed at him with one foot.

Frey groggily looked up at Auger.

Why are you holding that rock?

I heard some really strange noises last night. It sounded like wild animals growling right next to the house, and I wanted to be able to defend myself.

The corners of Auger’s eyes crinkled upwards as he tried to suppress a hearty guffaw. He knew where that growling had come from, and it wasn’t from wolves or bears.

Frey then rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. So Auger headed out to the animals’ water trough, scooped up some water in a bucket, and quietly headed back over to where Frey was lying. Amused, Auger slowly poured a thin stream into Frey’s ear.

Mom, the roof’s leaking again. Frey muttered as he rolled over.

Auger dumped the rest of the cold water onto Frey’s head, and then stood back, laughing, as the youth screamed and leaped to his feet, soaking wet.

Now that you had your bath, lad, you can start with the morning chores. But first, let’s eat!

After breakfast, Auger and Frey went to the small pasture to check on the livestock. It was a cool, crisp, clear morning, which was refreshing for a change. When they reached the pasture, all of the animals were huddled together in the center of the field. This was not typical behavior. Auger noticed that a rather large hole had been dug under one side