While the captain and crew entertained his youngbroðir,Skårde and Haldor Falk spoke to the nursemaid Helga. Gunni and Viggo sat with them on benches in the aft of the ship,watching Rolf and Sweyn steer the helm.
“The abductors must have placed herbs in our food or drink, because I awoke inside a moving carriage with Sweyn sleeping beside me on the seat. Although we were not mistreated, there were armed guards who made it clear that we were prisoners. We were taken to Paris and placed in the tower. They told Sweyn he was being kept safe until his father, King Harald, came to fetch him. I was told to keep the boy entertained and calm. I was terrified the entire time.” The stout, middle aged woman’s hands shook and her frail voice quavered with fear.
“Thank you for taking good care of him. When Sweyn returns to Denmark, we will arrange for you to sail home with him as well. In the meantime, the two of you will stay in my castle in Normandy, where my wife Ylva and my grandmother Gyda will welcome you both.” He glanced at Sweyn, who was learning how to adjust the angle of the sail to accommodate the direction of the wind. A flash of envy flared as he compared the inevitable. elated reaction Harald would have at being reunited with his legitimate son against the neglect he had always shown Skårde.
He abandoned me as an infant in Norway. I never even knew him until I distinguished myself as a fierce warrior in battle and lucrative raids. My own father was willing to betray me—bastard son of the Danish king—to save his legitimate heir.
Rancor rattled him until reason prevailed.
He had no choice. Lothaire would have killed Sweyn if Harald had refused to comply. The King of West Francia would have joined Otto the Red and his Holy Roman Empire in capturing Heiðabýr and invading Denmark. Faðir would have lost his son, his kingdom, and his heir. Wouldn’t I have done the same?
Sweyn’s jubilant shouts returned him to the present. “Skårde! Watch me adjust the sail!” Sturdy little arms pulled on the ropes attached to the lower corners of the square sail which were secured to the rigging and the mast of the ship. “When I grow up, I’m going to lead Viking raids and conquer new lands, just likeFaðir!”
Skårde smiled at the natural born sailor.
Min broðir. My brother. I will always defend you.
He scoffed at the irony of his life. As the Dragon of Denmark, Skårde had sought his father’s attention and approval through glorious victories and profitable Viking raids. He’d expected to inherit his father’s coveted crown. And yet—in a forced marriage of political alliance that neither he nor Ylva had wanted—he’d finally found the elusive love and acceptance which he had longed for his entire, lonely life. He grinned at Sweyn and shouted above the whipping, whistling wind. “One day, you’ll be a fierce Viking king. And rule both Denmark and Norway!”
Pride sparkled in Sweyn’s blue eyes like sunlight on the Narrow Sea.
****
On the twentieth of October, as Ylva, Gyda, Maeve, and Úlvhild tended the last of the wounded warriors in the Great Hall, the sentinel in the lookout tower at the mouth of the river shouted from the foot of the cliff. His clear, strong voice carried on the crisp autumn wind.
“Vessel sighted!Ran’s Ramis returning to port!”
Leaving the injured soldiers under the supervision of attentive servants, the healers raced to the grassy riverbank and watched as castle workers raised the chain boom which extended between the white chalk cliffs on either side of the mouth of the rapid flowing Arques River.
Square sail lowered, furled, and hitched, the capable crew ofRan’s Rammaneuvered the Frisian ship into the harbor, past the numerous quays where dozens ofdrakkarwarships lined the curved coast of the sheltered inlet at the base of the white chalk cliffs.
Amidst the din of shouts, the squawks of gulls, and waves crashing against the shore, Ylva spotted Skårde.
And her heart soared like the white gannets gliding across the sky.
She recognized Gunni’s distinctive red hair and beard, and Haldor Falk’s dark, compelling presence as they disembarked with Viggo and several of the knights fromChâteaufort.Skårde guided a woman and a child down the woodenplank which led from the ship to the dock.
Leaving her female companions on the hilltop, Ylva dashed down to the quay, flinging her arms around Skårde’s neck and kissing his bearded lips. “Welcome home!”
He chuckled deeply and swept her up into his sinewy arms. Setting her down on the wooden dock, he presented her to the young lad at his side. “Ylva, I’d like you to meet my brotherSweyn. Andbroðir, this is my wife Ylva.”
She smiled warmly at the bright little boy whose blond hair and blue eyes looked so much like Skårde’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sweyn. I’m very glad to have you here atChâteaufort.”
Sweyn executed a formal obeisance and replied politely, “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Ylva.” He gallantly lowered his head to bestow a formal kiss upon her hand.
Ylva silently mused that, as the son of a king, he was well versed in the proper forms of etiquette. “Do you like dogs?” she asked him, noting the quick, enthusiastic gleam in his twinkling eyes and the adorable dimple in his smiling cheeks. “When we go up to the castle, I’ll introduce you to Poppy and Pippin, two of the border collies who help us herd the cattle. Poppy just had a litter of four puppies, and if you promise to be very gentle, you can hold them. And help us name them!”
Sweyn hugged her hips in unabashed delight. “Thank you, Lady Ylva. I promise to be careful with them. Ilovepuppies.” He looked up at her with beseeching eyes. “Can I keep one? And bring him home with me toHeiðabýr?”
Skårde laughed out loud and ruffled Sweyn’s thick, long locks. “We’ll see. We have plenty of time to decide that. Let’s get settled into the castle first.” He motioned for the woman behind him to come forward and introduced her to Ylva. “This is Helga, Sweyn’s nurse. She’ll stay with him here in the guest quarters that Petroc is arranging. And accompany Sweyn on the ship when he sails home to Denmark.” While Ylva welcomed the plump, pleasant nursemaid, Skårde waved goodbye to Bavo, the ship’s captain. He nodded to Gunni and Viggo—who were coordinating the unloading of the ship with Björn and the castle knights—and led Ylva, Helga, Haldor Falk,and Sweyn up the hill to the jubilant crowd waiting to greet them in the grassy meadow at the top of the cliff.
****
“He’s asleep now. The puppies wore him out.” Ylva laughed as she sat down in the solar next to Skårde. They had celebrated with an impromptu welcoming feast, and she had helped Helga settle the excited, exuberant seven year old boy into his feather bed in the guest chambers on the second floor of the castle near her own. Now, while Helga remained in her quarters with Sweyn, Ylva joined her husband, father, and the members of the war council at the oak table in the solar ofChâteaufort.As she took her seat, she accepted a mug of mead and joined their ongoing conversation.
“Enguerran sent word that Conan’s army from Brittany has arrived, and that the siege towers and trebuchets have been assembled and are operational. He has positioned knights and men-at-arms in the woods and on elevated grounds west of the castle.” Richard relayed the recent reports to update Skårde.
“What is a trebuchet?” Ylva raised her eyebrows and glanced at Skårde.
