Page 53 of Mastered By the Viking King

“The village was raided. It is not clear who attacked it, but our people—the new settlers—were murdered in cold blood in the light of day. Many had been killed with their own tools.”

“This is…” A burning rage flooded his veins. “I made a deal with King Egbert.”

“I know. I have no way of knowing if he was behind this, or if it was rebel Wessex farmers who objected to us being there.”

“We have to find out.Ihave to find out.”

“I agree.” Leif looked over the fjord. “We cannot let this crime go unpunished.”

“I will slaughter everyone responsible, and feed their livers to the ravens, and their eyeballs to rats.” Njal stomped to the end of the pier, facing west. “The women and children, too?”

“Aye, my king.”

Njal closed his eyes. The sense of responsibility was almost too much to bear, even upon his broad shoulders. He’d encouraged his people to set up a new life in Wessex as farmers. The land was rich and full of goodness, the weather mild. And the king had promised no harm would come to them. Njal had dreamed of them flourishing, of more Vikings following.

“I paid handsomely for their protection,” he said, his teeth gritted. “The king will have to be brought to account.” He spun to Leif. “Soon. Restock the longboat—we will leave day after ‘morrow. This cannot wait until spring. I have blood to shed.”

“Njal, my king.” Tove worried on her bottom lip. “It is too dangerous. You heard what Leif said. He lost two men overboard.”

“I do not care about danger.” He spun and banged his fist on his chest. “I care about my people and they are your people, too, Queen Tove. They have been slaughtered in cold blood. A promise between kings has been broken, the gods will expect war.”

She swallowed and held Frode tighter. He hated to see his wife so worried, but she would have to live with that. Because he, King Njal of Halsgrof, could not live with himself until he doled out vengeance. And vengeance he would have. He would return the bloodbath; he would wield his sword on anyone who was within a day’s ride of the village on the day it was destroyed. On the day his Vikings were murdered in cold blood.

“We will consult the seer,” Leif said, gripping Njal’s shoulder. “His wisdom will guide us.”

“Aye, good idea. Perhaps he will give us insight into the gods’ will.”

“And if the gods’ will is that you don’t go?” Tove asked.

“We will go. Mark my words, my queen, we will set sail west, and our swords will be bloodstained the very day we touch land.” He cupped her chin and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips. “You shouldn’t fear. I am a very powerful warrior, and I am not afraid of death.”

“I am afraid of your death,” she whispered. “I do not wish to be alone.”

“If that happens, you will rule Halsgrof with dignity and wisdom.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I know you can do that, Tove.”

She didn’t answer, and he wasn’t sure if it was because she disagreed, or if her emotions were rising so fast they’d captured her tongue.

“Brother,” Leif gestured. “Let us go.”

“Aye, then we will feast.” Njal turned to Halfdan. “Prepare the Great Hall. By the time the sun sets we will have mead flowing and bread breaking. I wish my weary warriors to be well fed and rested before we take to the seas again.”

“Aye, King Njal.” Halfdan nodded, then rushed off, barking orders at Wanda as he went. She quickly followed.

Njal tried to beat down his bitter disappointment that the Wessex farm had been destroyed. But he would not give up. This setback would be avenged, then he’d try again, with warriors working alongside the farmers for their protection. And if he had to kill King Egbert to make that happen, he would.

He stomped along the pier with Leif, feet banging on the planks. The seer would calm his mind even if he couldn’t repair the tears in his heart for his murdered kinsmen. And he needed a calm mind, so he could think.

* * *

Tove watched her husband pound the pier as he and Leif stormed through the crowd. Njal’s cloak swung and his shoulders were hunched.

He was deeply pained by the news his brother had brought; she’d seen it in his eyes and heard it in his voice.

“Mama, can I have a drink?” Frode asked.

“Of course.” She pulled him closer into her cloak. “Let’s go indoors, the snow is coming again.”

“And we are feasting tonight?” Knud said, slipping his hand into her free one.

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