Riddle of the Gods: A Viking Age Novel (Olaf's Saga Book 4) by Eric Schumacher

Author:Eric Schumacher [Schumacher, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bodn Books
Published: 2024-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

I awoke the following day to find a camp in motion. Normally when I slept, I awoke at the first sounds of movement. It was a defensive behavior that I had developed when fleeing my home as a lad. But this day, it took the nudge of Sveinn’s boot to rouse me. I shot upright and peered around me, startled not only by the light of the morning but also by the commotion. Horses whinnied, and men moved about me. A smithy hammered in the distance. Someone shouted. I shook my head and wondered how I had slept through it all.

“Are you hale?” Sveinn gazed down at me.

I rubbed my face, but it did nothing to remove the fog muddling my thoughts. “What is happening?”

“Malachy has called men to arms. We go to take our revenge on Leinster. Do you still wish to stay?”

I nodded and glanced over at Olaf. It was hard to tell whether his sleep was temporary or permanent.

Sveinn must have seen my sudden concern. “Fear not, Torgil. He sleeps.”

Only then did my eyes come to rest on something that lay on my friend’s chest. I focused my eyes upon it, then stood quickly, if a little stiffly, and marched to Olaf’s side. “Who put that there?” I growled at Sveinn, my finger pointing at the cross on Olaf’s chest.

Sveinn raised his good hand to calm me. “Not I.” He suddenly grinned. “Mayhap he asked for it.”

I glowered at him and peered at the wounded man nearest Olaf. No cross lay on his chest, nor on the next man closest to him. Nor on the third man or the fourth. I bent and grabbed the charm, then tossed it as far away as I could. It spun over the top of several tents before vanishing into the camp.

“Damn Christians!” I spat and marched back to Sveinn, who was now squinting at me as if I had lost my mind. I calmed myself enough to remember that he was leaving with the others, though my anger still smoldered. “Be careful,” I warned him. “And if wealth is to be had, take as much as you can carry.”

“I will,” he confirmed, then switched the subject. “You should check on the other men. In the absence of Crowbone, they look to you. It will lift their spirits.”

I snorted, thinking he jested. “I am not one to lift spirits.”

“Still,” he said, “it will do them good.” He nodded and left to join the other men assembling at the edge of camp.

“Why do you not join them?” a woman’s voice asked from behind me.

I turned to see the healer. She had pulled her chestnut ringlets into a loose ponytail, though a few errant curls hung about her ears. She had also cleansed her skin of blood, though there was no hiding the dark rings under her bloodshot eyes. Seen in the morning light, I noticed just how attractive she truly was. Not in a young, seductive way that was devoid of blemishes

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