Chapter Nine
After
Three weeks after Aaron made conditional peace with his cousin, he sailed south to recruit more men.
He landed in Floro, purchased twenty horses and supplies, then travelled inland with his escort.
Late spring in Norway rivaled Scotland if the weather held.
The endless number of lakes and rivers made it difficult to work when he’d rather fish and hunt.
Tyr pledged twenty warriors to the king’s cause, shielding the families who lived closest to his steading from the draft.
Three of those men were now permanent members of Aaron’s personal guard.
Rumors of outlaws living in the forest, close to Erik the Bald’s home, drew Aaron back to Lagenheim.
However, he questioned what really made him go.
He couldn’t forget Kara. In a few days, he’d see her again, kiss her, hold her in his arms, and declare his intentions.
The visit with Tyr convinced him it was time to start his own family.
While camped two days outside Lagenheim, during the eventide meal, four threadbare riders showed up.
Aaron watched while his captain, Tayte Olavson, greeted and disarmed them before they were permitted at the fire.
When the boys were offered plates of salt fish, boiled cabbage, and cups of wine, they devoured their food. Aaron suspected something was wrong.
“Where are your families?” he inquired.
“Dead,” the eldest droned. “Our parents perished in a fire weeks ago. These are my brothers.” He pointed to them. “Dane is a bastard.”
Aaron stifled a sad laugh as he looked the fourth boy over. He had exceptional features, tall with long arms and legs. He’d make an excellent archer. “Can you swing an axe properly—hit a target?”
“Aye,” Dane answered.
He addressed the eldest brother again. “What are your names?”
“I’m Buri. This is Dusten and Ivar.”
“Where did you ride from, Buri?”
“Naustdal Valley—ten miles east. Driven out of another camp.”
“I know the place,” Aaron said. “Who cast you out?”
“I don’t know. We were never introduced, milord.”
Aaron flicked a measured gaze at Tayte. Outlaws.
Perhaps the very ones who had attacked Kara and her brothers.
He’d give a king’s ransom to meet up with them again.
The poor lads were in rough shape, underfed and in need of warmer clothing.
The kindest thing Aaron could do was provide opportunities for each one to make an honest living as a soldier.
“The gods blessed you today,” Aaron said. “This is King Olaf’s camp. I am recruiting young men like you for his army. You can thrive without scavenging and stealing food.”
His words piqued Dane’s interest the most. “I considered enlisting a year ago, sir.”
“Are you sincerely interested in serving your king?”
“All of us?” Buri queried.
Buri and Dusten appeared old enough. The youngest, Ivar, looked too frail to fight, but sturdy enough to work as a cook. “The offer is legitimate. If you prove loyal, the king has guaranteed great reward in the future.”
Dane whistled.
The brothers embraced, openly appreciative of their change in fortune. “Whatever you ask, milord, will be carried out,” Buri assured him.
Aaron believed him. “Tayte, give these men proper gear and sleeping quarters.”
“Aye.” The captain grinned, then escorted them to a nearby tent.
The Naustdal Valley was so desolate, it seemed unfit for anyone to live in. Aaron’s gaze swept the area. With Buri leading the way, Aaron hoped to find the camp where the boys had been just a couple nights ago.
“How much farther?” he asked the lad.
“Maybe a mile.”
Aaron rode alongside Tayte. “We’ll split up after we’ve gone halfway.
Keep four men, the rest will follow me. We’ll infiltrate this camp and question the heartless bastard who turned a group of children away in the middle of the night.
If any of the men I faced in Lagenheim are amongst them, I’ll know.
If we’re not back within the hour, send for reinforcements. ”
Ravens circled overhead as they plunged deeper into the woods.
Why did Allfather send the brothers of his messengers, Hugin and Munin, to taunt him while he was on official business for the king?
Or was this a good omen? He remembered the birds that landed on the stones during his conversion.
Hardly superstitious, he still respected the sacred symbols of the gods.
If a man listened, he would hear what messages the gods sent.
Half an hour later, Buri halted on the narrow trail. He dismounted, then tethered his horse to a nearby tree. “I believe this is the place, milord. I smell smoke.”
Aaron slid off his horse. “Aye. I do, too.” Whatever he found, he’d be prepared.
He inspected his weapons; his axe and sword were sharp and clean.
Then he strapped his shield across his back.
“You eight will accompany me from here.” Trouble between Christians and pagans was enough to keep him busy for the next year.
He’d flush every criminal from this place if it was the last thing he did.
They advanced soundlessly, the acrid smell of smoke guiding them deeper into the woods. Buri gestured ahead as Aaron slipped past the boy. The camp perimeter came into view. Stunned by the lack of defenses, he trudged across a small clearing, kicking trenchers of food on the ground aside.
“Attacked?” Tension racked his body. “Who abandons full plates of food so carelessly unless—”
Shouts revealed the location of the inhabitants.
Aaron turned, holding his finger to his lips to silence his men.
Next, they heard a chorus of cheers. The midday meal overlooked for sport?
The gods couldn’t have been more generous.
Striding toward the noise, Aaron took cover behind a thick tree trunk.
The throng was so engrossed in watching a fight, they didn’t hear his approach.
He stared at the competitors in the ring.
The slighter of the two looked oddly familiar and the crest on that blasted silver helmet she wore infuriated him so deeply his hands shook.
Her opponent clipped her in the legs with the edge of his shield.
She staggered backward. “Kara Dalgaard,” Aaron screamed, rushing in.
“Aaron?” She swung around.
Rage consumed him as he slammed into the back of the dark-haired bastard that hit her. His opponent groaned as he crashed to the ground, his head smacking a large rock. Aaron raised his axe, ready to deliver a death blow. He wanted to carve a path straight through this blackguard’s heart.
“Tis my fight.” Kara touched his arm from behind.
“Your fight?” Aaron repeated, unbelieving, his gaze fixed on his target. He sucked in a breath, trying to clear his mind. “Men aren’t permitted to fight women in the real world. I will kill him.”
“Please,” she pleaded. “I must win my freedom from Erling.”
Her freedom? How long had she been here?
Hatred swelled inside him. He shook his head.
Odin, grant me understanding. Shouts rang out.
Aaron looked left, then right. His men had joined the fight.
It mattered little. He couldn’t focus on anything but the man on the ground. “Get up.” Aaron kicked him in the ribs.
“What can I do?” Kara asked.
“I suspect this man is an enemy of the king. Step aside.” Erling didn’t move. Perhaps the blow to his head had killed him? “Are you alone?”
“No, Amelia is here.”
“Listen carefully,” he instructed. “Follow the footpath near the fire out of camp. My soldiers are posted nearby. After I’m done, I’ll find your maid. Go. Now.”
The mule-headed girl didn’t budge. Aaron motioned with his head which way she should run. Finally, the lass fled. Once she disappeared, he sheathed his weapon, then knelt beside Erling. Breathing, but barely conscious. “Prepare to die.”
Something heavy slammed into his back. A sharp pain ripped through his body as he fell over Erling.
Aaron twisted in time to block a second strike from his attacker.
He recovered, then climbed to his feet, delivering a debilitating blow with his axe.
It left a deep gash down the center of his assailant’s chest. Erling moaned.
Aaron whipped around. His need for blood increasing at an alarming rate.
Although he suspected Erling was guilty of many crimes, kidnapping and murder to start with, he’d rather arrest him and deliver him to Oslo.
His men had cleared the area. Justice must be done.
As he weighed his options, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of a knife.
Bless the gods for making the choice for him.
Aaron sunk his axe into Erling’s shoulder, then yanked it out.
Erling sank to his knees, covering the injury with his right hand. “Will you leave me to die?” His wound bled profusely.
“Odin will decide.” Aaron grinned. Erling deserved to be carved into little pieces and fed to a pack of wild dogs.
With Erling mortally wounded, Aaron could now focus on finding Amelia. When he finished here, he’d deal with that breeches-wearing shrew that wouldn’t get the hell out of his head. It would serve both women right if he left them here. But there were better ways to punish foolish females.
After a short search, he found Amelia crouched behind a cabin with six other women.
“Jarl McNally,” she greeted him without surprise, almost as if she’d expected his appearance.
“Come,” He grabbed her arm. “Your mistress waits.”
“Mine or yours?” She smiled.
He didn’t appreciate her insinuation. Did the wench want to stay in this dirty sprawl of a place? He tightened his hold. “Save your words for later.”
Kara stumbled out of the woods to find Aaron’s men with their horses. They offered her water and barley cakes. She accepted a water skin and choked down every ounce her belly could hold.
“Where did you come from?” one of the guards questioned.
She pointed, still breathless. “Aaron . . .” She drained the skin. “The jarl rescued me and told me to find you.”
“Tayte Olavson.” The soldier bowed.