The Last Berserker by Angus Donald

Author:Angus Donald
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

It was Tor who discovered the truth about Freki. ‘His father sent him down here from Bago,’ she told Bjarki one cold morning when they were sparring gently with axe and shield on the almost empty parade ground.

‘He’s set to be the Bago hersir one day and Olaf thought to make a proper fighting man of him by sending him to Karolus to learn skill at arms.’

They paused for a while to watch Freki thrashing away with his sword against an equally unskilled opponent. His blows were wild, uncontrolled.

‘That plan doesn’t seem to be working out very well,’ said Bjarki.

‘Maybe I’ll take him under my wing, train him up, just like I did you,’ said Tor, grinning at him.

Bjarki lowered his shield and axe and gaped at her.

‘I’m joking, Bjarki. Although it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. I could “accidentally” maim him in a training bout. Cut off his hand or a foot!’

‘You say you’re joking – but you’re not being very funny.’

‘How’s this for a jest,’ said Tor, and she launched a flurry of axe blows at Bjarki, who only with difficulty fended them off with his shield.

When they broke apart, both panting, Tor said: ‘It seems that someone, at least, seems to appreciate my sense of humour.’

She jerked her chin at the side of the parade ground where a heavy four-wheeled travelling carriage was parked, the vehicle drawn by four black carthorses. The lumbering box on wheels was painted black and the symbol of the eagle – the insignia that adorned Karolus’s war banner – was inscribed in gold on the door. Bjarki could see that the square wooden shutter above the door that acted as a window was very slightly open. Someone inside was watching them. He caught a flash of jewels, and a glimpse of a white face.

‘Is that Queen Hildegard, do you think?’ said Bjarki.

‘Why would she hide from us?’ Tor replied.

‘I’ve no idea. But it’s a royal carriage and that’s not a man in there.’

Tor shrugged. ‘Perhaps, oaf, you have a secret admirer.’

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