The Titus Chronicles-Berserker Returns by Peake R.W

Author:Peake, R.W. [Peake, R.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

If anyone had bothered to ask Bjorn Sigurdson, he would have happily told them that he had no desire to be in charge of the defenders of Boulogne. No, he had been perfectly content when Sigfred the Úlfhédnar had named that son-of-a-whore Hallsteinn as the commander in his absence, despite the fact that Bjorn privately believed that Sigfred was making a horrible mistake in his choice of a man who had made no secret that he believed he was the Úlfhédnar’s equal in all matters. That, however, was not something that one told Sigfred, not if you did not want to see your guts falling out on the floor...and that was if you were fortunate. Consequently, no more than two weeks after Sigfred departed with the bulk of the hundred fifty longships and forty-odd captured Frankish ships that were good for hauling cargo and animals but little else, Hallsteinn took more than half of the remaining garrison in twelve longships, leaving only three behind, swearing that he would only be viking for a short period of time.

“There is a town in Cent called Hrofescester,” he had informed Bjorn the day he had announced his intentions to the men of the garrison, many of whom, Bjorn knew, had been angry at being left behind by Sigfred. This was particularly true once the rumors began to spread of what the Jarl ’s real plan was, and that it had nothing to do with Frisia, aside from being a place far from the prying eyes of even the Frankish king. “It is fat and soft, and just waiting to be plucked like a virgin on her wedding night,” he had told Bjorn, with that infuriatingly smug smile he liked to give others.

Bjorn had heard of Hrofescester, but nothing he had heard in the description of it had indicated that it was soft.

“I heard that it has stout walls, and is in a loop on that river they call the Medway,” he said cautiously. “That makes it easy to defend, no?”

“Bah!” Hallsteinn had waved a dismissive hand. “They will shit themselves when we show up! And,” he added expansively, “I may just accept a payment to leave them alone if it appears to be too much trouble.”

“That would be good,” Bjorn agreed noncommittally.

Hallsteinn must have sensed his ambivalence, and rather crossly, he argued, “Yes, it would be good! Besides, Hrofescester is Centish, and you have heard the rumors that their Jarl and the Saxon King Alfred do not trust each other because Alfred believes this Jarl ...”

“Sigeræd,” Bjorn supplied, earning a nod but that was all.

“Yes, that’s it. Anyway,” Hallsteinn “Alfred believes this Sigeræd has eyes on taking his throne, yes?” Bjorn had heard this as well, and he gave a nod. “So,” Hallsteinn spread his hands out, palms upward as he asked in a manner that Bjorn correctly guessed meant he expected either agreement or no answer, “why would this Alfred lift a finger to help Sigeræd under those circumstances?”

It was, Bjorn had acknowledged to himself, a valid point, although he would not have argued it either way.

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