Free Norseman Raider (The Norseman Chronicles Book 4) by Jason Born Page A

where the king now slumbered curled up next to his housemaid and thrall.  The queen halted Leif with a light touch.  “You will propose to capture this treasure with and for my husband so that he may build a stronger kingdom?”
    “Of course,” answered Leif as if it was the only possible choice.
    Gudruna glanced over to her husband with pride.  She firmly grasped Leif’s arm and drew him close.  “The hour is late and the king is tired.  One morning of delay will not harm the outcome.”  She sat back to the ground and tugged Leif down with her.  “And you have work to finish for your queen.”  Gudruna again pulled Leif’s cloak over them. Their childish giggling resumed.
    Eyvind looked back to me.  “It seems like your friend means to use my yarn to lead you to your death.”
    It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last.  I raised my mug to offer a toast.  “I thank you, troublesome skald.”  I brought the mug to my lips and remembered it was empty.  I tipped it over my mouth and shook it until one last drop of the brew fell onto my extended tongue.
    My hands slapped down on the table and I pushed myself up.  I left Eyvind to find a place to sleep and picked my way through the crowd of snoozing bodies on the floor.  I pushed the doors of the hall open and went out into the cool morning.
    A slight ray of sun had just begun breaking over the horizon to the east.  Two thralls , already starting their days, carried buckets of water for their masters.  Killian, who I had not even seen leave the assembly when Eyvind finished his tales, used a wicker broom to brush off the dirt walkway of his church.  Despite staying up as long as me, the priest seemed to have bountiful energy.  “Good morning to you Norseman!” he called.  “It looks to be a beautiful day.”
    I grunted something incomprehensible in return and staggered toward the great stone with Odin’s likeness carved on it.  I patted the image with my hand and smiled, thinking of home and my first and second fathers.  The stone felt warm despite the chill from the night air.  I pulled my cloak tightly around me and sat down with my back resting against the marker.
    I fell asleep, my dreams turning to nightmares of draugr and warriors, death and failure.

CHAP TER 2
     
    I awakened sometime after the midday meal and found that my back ached where it had rested at an awkward angle against Odin’s and the One God’s shared stone.  But I was young and in just a matter of moments, the pain was a mere memory.  My fractured fingers still throbbed with every beat of my heart.  I could already begin to see a slit of light through my swollen eye.
    Killian had taken pity on me sometime during the morning and covered my shivering form in a blanket made of the wool from the many sheep inhabiting the island.  It was actually a stray, flapping fiber from the well-worn blanket that awakened me when a breeze caused the errant thread to repeatedly brush against my nostrils.
    As I came back to life, I sat up and stretched.  The village was alive with the activities expected in early summer.   Hungry, thieving gulls raced overhead, heading inland and then back out to the shingle where fishermen were already returning with their catch.  The stench of a tanner’s craft wafted from a nearby street.  A smith’s hammer split the afternoon.  So did his echoing voice as he screamed at his apprentice for working the bellows too hard and blowing his fire too high.
    My belly was in the process of eating itself so it was a welcome sight indeed to see the small priest shuffle across the square carrying a platter of bread and fish.  Killian wore what I had supposed was his typical priestly robe.  It was white.  He or a servant must have taken great care in laundering it because the color was not faded or yellowed.  Instead, the robe was as white as a baby’s first teeth.  At the bottom hem, though, his actions of the day had already splashed