Björn scowled as he spat out the bitter truth. “The royal palace of King Lothaire of West Francia. He’s the one who ordered the abduction. And now he has Sweyn.”
Skårde eyed the four valiant knights seated with him at the oak table in the solar.
Ylva, seated at Skårde’s side, recognized Björn, the First Knight ofChâteaufortand leader of their men. Gunni, the red-haired warrior who’d been eager for the mock battles at the wedding feast. Kallez, her own personal guard. And Viggo, a fierce warrior from Denmark who was also a highly skilled craftsman, boatbuilder, and expert navigator.
“I must inform my father.”Skårde’s voice was ragged. “Denmark is vulnerable.Weakened by his overly generous wedding gift.” He rocked in his chair, visibly struggling to repress his rage. “Five thousand men,” he scoffed, lips tightening in a grimace under the thick blond bristles. “And a fleet ofdrakkarships. The extravagant bride price he offered to Richard. And to me as Count of thePays de Caux.”Elbows on the table, Skårde leaned into his hands, massaging his tensely furrowed brow with strong, calloused fingers. He lifted his head, fixing a resolute gaze on Björn. “I need to set sail right away. Speak to him before Lothaire forces his hand.”
“He is already docked inHeiðabýrby now.” Gunni crossed brawny arms over his mail clad chest. “And the Frankish forces who recently attacked—set those Viking ships on fire—they could still be there, waiting for Harald’s return. If you sailed toHeiðabýr, you could be ambushed or captured. And then who would lead thePays de Caux?”
“I’m the Dragon of Denmark! It’s my duty to defend my country and my king!” Spittle flew from Skårde’s bearded lips.
“You are the Dragon of Normandy now. And your people need you here to defend them. Lothaire is likely to attack us, and we need to prepare. We have not finished fortifying the ports.” Viggo, charged with construction of the garrison to defend the harbor, urged Skårde to remain atChâteaufort.
“Denmark is severely compromised. Weakened by my father’s foolish generosity. And now, with Sweyn imprisoned, andHeiðabýrlikely to fall into Frankish hands, I mustreach him. If I tell him we plan to save Sweyn, I can thwart Lothaire. Save my brother, my kingdom, and my king.”
Ylva decided that now was the right time to tell Skårde of her vision. If he set sail forDenmark, and the raven warriors arrived during his absence, then Normandy would be vulnerable to attack. Perhaps that was exactly what King Lothaire had planned all along.
“I, too, had a vision.” She placed a trembling hand on Skårde’s thick forearm, which was resting on the table. “I saw a fleet of ships—with the emblem of a huge black raven upon white sails.” Recognition dawned in Skårde’s fierce eyes as his intense gaze held hers. “In the sighting, hundreds of warriors—wearing chain mail armor, wielding axes and swords—poured off the raven ships onto a beach. I witnessed a bloody battle, but since it was nighttime in the sighting, I couldn’t identify the port. Nor determine if they were friend or foe.”
Skårde spun toward Gunni. “Anvarr. The raven—symbol of Odin—has always been his emblem. He has one painted on his shield. And a raven tattooed on his sword arm.”
Gunni pulled pensively on a tight braid in his thick red beard. “If Viking warriors are pouring off the raven ships, wielding axes and swords, then he’s not defendingHeiðabýr.He’s attacking us!” Fury flashed in his fiery gaze. “Anvarr must have allied with Lothaire.”
Skårde leaned forward to address Úlvhild, seated at Ylva’s other side. “Did yourseiðrvision reveal the raven warriors as well?”
“No, but it did show that a trio of evil will betray your father. And I cast the runes.Naudiz—for struggle.Raido—for voyage. AndKaun—for injury, disease, and doom. We must prepare for an impending battle.” Úlvhild’s ominous voice was as weary as her haggard face.
“I need to warn my father of the betrayal. And inform him of our plan to rescue Sweyn. I must sail forHeiðabýrat once.”Skårde rose from his chair and strode across the room to the open window where the briny scent of the sea wafted on the soft summer breeze. As shades of lavender and rose streaked the twilight sky, he stared at the glimmering waves beyond the glistening white chalk cliffs.
“You cannot sail with an army, leaving us defenseless against a potential attack. Nor can you sail alone, lest you be ambushed and captured.” Björn glanced around the table, seeking visual affirmation from the other Viking warriors who had sworn allegiance to Skårde.
All nodded in agreement with the First Knight ofChâteaufort.
A wolfish grin stretched across Skårde’s bearded face. “Not if I am disguised as a Frisian shipping merchant. Selling wool at the Danish trade center ofHeiðabýr.”He rushed back to the table, seemingly eager to expound upon his strategy. “We’ll take the two Frisian ships we seized in the recent battle at Dorestad,” he said to Gunni. “Where I won the Frankish sword from Lothaire’s royal knight. And Thor marked me with his thunder.” A wicked gleam in his eye, Skårde yanked the neck of his tunic down to expose the jagged scar. Momentum building, his voice animated and eager, he unfolded the details of his plan. “We sail to Denmark, dock at the port, obtain lodging for the night. As a Frisian textile merchant, I’ll insist upon showing my finest wool to the king—as a ruse for me to speak with my father. Once he’s forewarned, we’ll depart the following day at first light. And be back in Normandy in two weeks.”
“We need to finish the fortifications at the port first. The watchtowers, gatehouses, and chain booms on each bank of the river are nearly complete. We must prepare for Anvarr’s impending attack. Delay your voyage three days. We need every available man.” Warning blazed in Viggo’s stark, steadfast gaze.
Reluctant and resistant, Skårde gritted his teeth, but conceded. “Two days, not three. We’ll work from dawn to dusk.”
“Viggo and I will sail with you, but Björn stays here to defend Ylva andChâteaufort.”Gunni darted a glance at Björn, who ducked his chin in agreement. “We must send word to Richard. We’ll need his advice on how to free Sweyn.”
A frail female voice was a startling counterpoint to the gruff grumbling of the men. “I have summoned Haldor Falk, the Falcon of the Faroe Islands. Staunch ally of King Harald Bluetooth.” Úlvhild grinned at the stunned faces of the seasoned warriors seated around the table. “He’ll arrive in seven to ten days. And help you locate Sweyn.” Her haunting gaze fixed upon a fascinated Skårde. “He’s a sorcerer and shapeshifter. He can take the form of a falcon—and fly right into the royal palace in Paris. So you’ll know exactly where they’re keeping the boy.”
Adrenaline surged as an idea suddenly occurred to Ylva. Her clear, confident voice carriedacross the room. “My father is closely allied with Hugh Capet, the new Count of Paris. Richard was married to Hugh’s sister Emma. And Hugh Capet is married to my father’s cousin, Adelaide of Aquitaine.” Ylva grinned at her warrior husband. “What better way to infiltrate the royal palace than with the alliance of the Count of Paris?”
Skårde beamed through his blond beard and kissed Ylva’s hand. “We’ll send word to your father in the morning. Rouen is on the banks of the Seine River, which flows right into the heart of Paris. Once we know Sweyn’s precise location, we can sail from Rouen to the royal palace onl’ Île de la Cité.”
Nodding in satisfaction at Gunni, Viggo, and Björn, Skårde summarized their course of action. “It’s settled then. We finish the fortifications at the port. Load the two Frisian ships with wool and enough provisions for the voyage to Denmark. And set sail forHeiðabýrin two days.” He rose to his full towering height, sighed in relief, and dismissed his weary men.
Ylva kissed Gyda and Úlvhild goodnight, agreeing to meet them in the castle solar to break their fast together in the morning. As she watched Dagny and Gyda escort the exhaustedvölvafrom the private parlor—the three women heading off to bed—Ylva was glad she would be returning to the hut with Úlvhild tomorrow. She wanted to make a talisman for Skårde, to protect him on the voyage to Denmark. And she was looking forward to seeing Maeve again. It was wonderful to finally have a friend. With a reassuring smile, she dismissed her attendants, Eydis and Norhild, who retired gratefully to the servants’ quarters.
Jofroi, the personal chamberlain, waited patiently nearby
Skårde released his faithful servant from duty. And, taking Ylva by the hand, led her down the hall to their private chambers.
Moonlight glimmered on the dancing waves which crashed against the white chalk cliffs. As she undid her braids and removed her gown, Ylva gazed through the open window to the thunderous, turbulent surf far below the castle.
She didn’t want him to go. Like Björn, she was afraid Skårde would be ambushed or captured inHeiðabýr.And after the terrifyingvision of axe-wielding raven warriors descending from dragon ships, she feared for thePays de Caux.
