Casca 47: The Viking by Tony Roberts

Author:Tony Roberts [Roberts, Tony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-09-06T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Casca led the dragon ship towards Sundsvalk. Gudfred had lent the Eternal Mercenary eighty men, enough for one warship’s complement, and grudgingly requested that he didn’t get too many killed. Casca guessed the prince was pissed at losing to his Jarl and having his five women pleasure his guest. A night of whoring and drinking had left the scarred warrior groaning in the morning, feeling as if a regiment of Persian Cataphracti had ridden over him. But damn, it had been worth it.

So now they were nearing Sundsvalk, intent on subjugating the place. Thordein had sent back a very insulting reply to Casca’s demands so now it was war. Sundsvalk had maybe thirty-five warriors to defend the settlement. Thordein was even demanding his grandfather and sister be given the run of Husborg as theirs. Magnus, left in charge of the Hold, had sent a short, sharp reply that had made it clear to Thordein that he wasn’t going to get anywhere asking for things like that.

Magnus had, in fact, put both Jurgen and Freya under house guard and had threatened Thordein with a gift of the old man’s head unless he shut up.

Casca waved the steersman of the sixteen-bencher warship, the drekar, to swing to the shore. Thirty-two rowers bent their backs to pull the thin, sleek, oaken warship through the grey water of the coast. Sundsvalk had been passed, its small harbor full with ships and fishing boats, and they had to sail on until the next available landing spot.

Men could be seen running from the settlement in alarm, shouting a warning, but the ship would beach and the men get off before anyone could get near. With a grating, shuddering noise, the ship came to an abrupt halt and the fur-clad Vikings jumped overboard into shallow water. They flooded ashore and spread out along the coarse grass-topped sand dunes, swords or the more ubiquitous skeggox, the axe, ready for use.

For a tactical approach, there wasn’t much to it. Sundsvalk had a wooden stockade but it wasn’t much and could be scaled without too much bother. Some of the defenders had ventured out but now fled before the approach of the war band.

They stopped a little distance from the stockade. The gates were shut, the towers manned, bowmen ready. Casca stood with the biggest of the loaned warriors and grunted with annoyance. “Can’t that annoying little turd just die? He’s been nothing but a real pain ever since I met him.”

“Why didn’t you kill him earlier, then?” the big man asked.

“Why indeed? I thought he might end up useful to me somehow, but he’s just full of himself and has no grasp of what it means to be a leader. His sister is pretty, though.”

“Oh,” the Viking laughed, “I see. Had her, did you?”

Casca grinned weakly. “Something like that.”

“Kill the bastard, screw his sister. She’ll get over it.”

The Vikings had a simplistic approach to life. Casca got one of the men to tie a white cloth to a pole and together, the two walked closer.

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