Free The Valhalla Saga 01 - Swords of Good Men by Snorri Kristjansson

with women, even more than they did. She might not admit it – not in front of the men, especially not Skargrim – but she did. That had to be why she’d given him the special instructions. He didn’t understand why, but he sure as hell didn’t mind. He would do what she said, for she was Skuld,sister of Urd and Verdandi, one of the three witches of fate, the Thread Cutters. And she loved him.
    Oraekja watched Ragnar’s back and smiled.
    EAST NORWAY
    As midday faded into afternoon and the shadows grew longer, Finn turned in the saddle and looked back.
    Outriders on fast horses. Others carrying long spears and pikes. Shields of a variety of sizes. Jerkins of every colour. The column seemed to snake on for ever, over fields and through forests. Finn knew his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he also knew how quickly their army had swollen. In the last two months their numbers had grown by nearly a thousand men. The hunters kept griping to him about how nothing was enough, how they couldn’t keep up with the ever-growing demand. He saw the fights break out because of too many men shoulder to shoulder in too little space.
    He had to say something.
    Riding beside the King at an easy walk, he cleared his throat nervously.
    ‘What?’ King Olav shot Finn a sharp look that made him stutter.
    ‘The – the men, my lord. There’s too many of them.’
    Finn blinked. King Olav watched him impassively.
    ‘They … they come from different places. And not all of them believe in the White Christ, my lord.’ Finn did a rapid sign of the cross, looked down and folded his hands, as he had seen Olav do. When he looked up again, something in the face of the King had changed. There was a touch of curiosity there.
    ‘Continue.’
    It all came out. ‘They are not happy, my lord. I have heardthem whisper amongst themselves. They say they do not know why we are going around bullying farmers, my lord. Some of them miss their families. They do not understand why we are fighting the people who believe in the old gods. There may be more like those four we saw yesterday. I think they might run away or try to take you on, my lord.’
    Out of breath, Finn waited for a response, but there was none forthcoming from the King. Instead the young man seemed lost in thought.
    Their horses walked on, setting the pace for the men marching behind them.
    Heading west.
    STENVIK
    Harald held a big calloused hand up in front of his face. ‘There are lines on my fingers. I’ve never seen them before.’ He furrowed his brow in concentration. ‘It’s hard to count when you’re lying on your back.’ He blinked, mumbled a curse, licked his lips and started again.
    ‘I can’t feel my mouth.’ An idiot grin spread on his face. ‘That shitty little pig farmer wasn’t much of a man after all. He shat in his stinking farmer pants.’ He giggled to himself, but then frowned again and looked at his hand. ‘It hurts.’ The knuckles were swollen and smeared with blood.
    A small bottle stood on the ground next to his bed. A tiny drop of thick black liquid was making its way slowly down to the ground.
    ‘Trying to … ‘scape?’ he slurred. ‘Tryin’ to ‘scape, you li’l bitch?’ He reached for the bottle, grasped it and brought it to his mouth. With slow, deliberate movements he licked the drop off.
    ‘Can’t ‘scape me,’ he rumbled contentedly. ‘No one can.’ He fumbled for the cork, but couldn’t find it. This seemed to annoy him. ‘Cork. Cork,’ he muttered. He tried to prop himself up on an elbow, but lost his balance and fell back onto the bed. ‘Hm. Too much. Had too much. Sleepy.’
    He slowly lowered the bottle back down to the floor. His eyes closed within moments and soon he was breathing regularly.
    Watching him, she could taste her own fear.
    When he’d come home covered in blood she thought he’d either been wounded or had killed someone. He’d grabbed her roughly by the hair, twisted her round and taken her then,