Swallowing another gratifying gulp of ale, he contemplated the Danish army he’d proudly brought to fortify the Norman coast of thePays de Caux. Not only were his Viking warriors experienced in battle, they were also seasoned sailors and expert navigators, each one a highly skilled craftsman as well. Among the tradesmen Njörd had personally selected to accompany him to Étretat were carpenters, farriers, leather workers, woodcutters, armorers, millers, and farmers. They would rebuild the damaged homes, restore the castle, and construct new merchant shops to expand and enrich the city encirclingle Château Blanc,as well as the surrounding villages beyond the protective barrier of the defensive curtain wall.
Étretat. The Viking settlement in Normandy which Njörd—as Elfi’s wedded husband and Thorfinn’s proclaimed heir—would soon rule as a Danish jarl and Norman Count.
“Dreaming of bedding your beautiful betrothed?” Áki, Njörd’s second in command, smirked as he sat down at the enormous table. “She’s not what you expected, is she? Hardly the hideous, unmarriageable daughter of an aging Norman noble. Attractive only for her coveted dowry.” He tore off a hearty chunk of salted pork, washed it down with ale, and swiped his grinning, bearded mouth with the back of his huge hand. “Her silken hair touches her hips…Lady Elfi of Étretat must surely tempt the savage Wolf of the Nordic Seas.” Áki leaned toward Njörd, a lusty gleam in his lewd gaze. “If she weren’t your betrothed, I’d bed her myself.”
Njörd spluttered his mouthful of ale, gripped by a sudden, intense surge of jealousy. Áki wooed women in every port, undoubtedly siring a string of bastards along the various Viking trade routes. Njörd didn’t want Áki anywhere near Elfi. He was possessive and protective of his fated mate. Hissiren with the sea goddess eyes.
“Well, I’m off to supervise the carpenters repairing homes east of the castle. Sverre has a crew working in the south, and Gisli’s team is covering the village west of the city wall. With a hundred men apiece, we’ll finish repairing the damage done by the recent attack in plenty of time forHaustblót,”he said, referring to the upcoming autumn harvest festival that would hopefully coincide with Lord Thorfinn’s anticipated release from the Frankish prison of Count Alberic of Soissons.“After that, we’ll start with new construction—longhouses, huts, cabins, and merchant shops—so that everything will be complete in time for your Yuletide wedding to Lady Elfi, the Heiress of Étretat.” Áki grinned as he rose from the table. “See you tonight fornáttmál.” He clasped Njörd on the shoulder in a friendly farewell and strode out of the longhouse through the heavy wooden door.
Njörd lingered at the table, savoring his last swallow of ale and reliving the memory of his promise to Elfi last night. Her lovely eyes had come alive when he’d agreed to teach her weaponry and resume her training with a sword.
A wave of unease flooded him as he remembered the otherworldly voice in the woods of Norway when the white wolf had died.Keep the two solid bones in his lower jaw… You will need them one day. For weapons to protect your future mate.
He would honor his promise to Elfi and mold her into a mighty shield maiden. A warrior wife who would rule at his side when he was here in Normandy and in his place when he sailed across the Nordic Seas. But mayhap, like the whisper in the woods had suggested, he should have special weapons crafted for her protection.
As he rose from the table and brushed off his woolen breeches, he made a mental note to visit the castle armorer. And bring the jaw bones of the sacred white wolf.
****
“Good morning, Njörd! Bjarke, Varg, Skårde, and I have assembled the stone masons who are supervising repairs on the castle wall. We are all anxious to hear your suggestions for improvements in defending Étretat.” Jarl Rikardwelcomed him into the Great Hall ofle Château Blancwhere an attentive group of skilled workers—a combination of bricklayers from the village and some of his own craftsmen from the Danish port of Ribe—were gathered around a large table. “We have brought materials for you to sketch your designs. Please, enlighten us.”
In the center of the table were several sheets of sheepskin parchment, ink made from soot and pine oil, and a feather quill for him to illustrate the proposed plans.
Njörd selected a thin layer of parchment and smoothed it out on the tabletop. He dipped a quill in the pot of ink and sketched the ramparts surroundingle Château Blancwith the distinctive pattern of rises and dips like jagged teeth along the battlements of the outer stone wall.
“In Constantinople, I observed a unique architectural advancement which we can incorporate as we rebuild the damaged ramparts and parapets surrounding the castle.” He drew an image of a protected, enclosed extension projecting from an exterior wall. “These are calledmashrabiyain the Byzantine Empire. Although many are intended simply for architectural adornment, some are used for defensive purposes as well.”
Njörd added arrow slits to the walls of the image he had drawn. “If we build projections such as these from the ramparts encircling the castle, our archers can position themselves inside, and be shielded from enemy arrows by the protective side walls.” With a few strokes of the ink-dipped quill, he added another feature to his sketch. “With strategic openings at the bottom, castle defenders canpour boiling water and burning oil onto the attacking enemy. We can drop heavy stones, thick logs… evenquicklime.”
Twenty sets of fascinated eyes fixed upon him from the men seated around the table.
“Greek fire. Another treasure I discovered in my voyages to the regions you calloutre-mer.” Njörd grinned at the enthralled expressions of the stone masons. “ThePays de Cauxis named for its towering cliffs of white chalk, which can be cut into slabs when the stone is wet. If we heat the chalk over hot flames, we can reduce the limestone to a fine white powder which burns like fire-- which we can hurl into the eyes of the invading army. Quicklime instantly blinds and incapacitates, so our archers can drop them in droves.”
While everyone grinned at the prospect of such a potent weapon, Galfrid—one of Jarl Rikard’s men—studied themashrabiyaextensions in Njörd’s drawing. “We can add thesemurder holesalong the battlements of the ramparts surrounding the castle, and also up here—on the rooftop of the keep itself.”
Helgi, one of Njörd’s shipbuilders, grinned in garish delight. “We can also dig a trench between the outer and inner curtain walls. Embed wooden spikes pointing upward from the waters of the moat—so that if attackers do breach the outer wall, they’ll be impaled on sharpened spears.”
Amid murmurs of agreement among the workers, Bjarke, Galfrid, and Helgi divided the men into teams for construction to begin.
Skårde enthusiastically shook hands with Njörd. “These are excellent designs. I’m anxious to get started right away.” He rolled up the dried parchment of plans and tucked them under his arm. With a respectful nod to the Duke of Normandy,Skårde led a group of eager stone masons out of the boisterous, bustling Great Hall.
Njörd spoke quietly to Jarl Rikard. “I’ll join you soon. I made a promise to Elfi last night. I intend to show her that I’m a man of my word.”
Richard the Fearless grinned. “Best not keep the Heiress of Étretat waiting. See you later. And Njörd—” he said, as he headed toward the door— “thank you for the suggestions to bolster our castle defenses. I plan to implement them at my ducal residence in Fécamp. And at all of our fortresses throughout Normandy. A superb improvement in architectural design. You will be an exemplary Count of Étretat.”
Njörd watched the Duke of Normandy exit the castle, the silver torque around Richard’s thick neck glinting in the morning sun. A surge of pride washed over him at the honor of being selected by King Harald Bluetooth to strengthen the alliance withJarl RikardandSkårde the Scourge—Bluetooth’s bastard son and Count of thePays de Caux.As the finest warrior from Norway and Denmark,Njörd had been chosen by his king to join the alliance which defended the dukedom of Normandy against the treacherous Count of Soissons and the continuous threat of a Frankish attack.
I’ll fortify the castle and rebuild the city. Jarl Thorfinn will return to le Château Blanc. My Danish army will defend the Pays de Caux. And Elfi —my warrior wife—will rule as Countess of Étretat.
Once all is secure, I’ll return with Áki to sail the Nordic Seas. We’ll voyage to the distant Orkney and Faroe Islands. To Kernow, Éirann, or Skótland. I’ll raid and trade. Enrich my king, my duke, and my wife. A glorious future for the Wolf of the Nordic Seas.
Then why did the prospect of sailing to distant shores plague him with a sense of foreboding doom? Once again,the seeressAstrid’sunearthly, visionary voice haunted him from the past.
“You will discover the truth. And fulfill the prophecy. For you are destined to wield the Dwarven sword.”
Shaking off his disquieting reverie, Njörd decided that he would consult the villagevölvatomorrow morning. But in the meantime, he headed toward the castle kitchens where he hoped to find Elfi’sthrall. He smiled at the irony of her name. Sif. A dark-haired slave, named after a blonde goddess. The glorious, golden wife of the thunder god Thor.
The thrall Sif was indeed in the kitchen, peeling vegetables and adding them to a steaming cauldron in the enormous stone hearth. At the sound of his booted footsteps, she spun around, obviously startled to see him. “My lord! Why have you come to the kitchen? Are you hungry? I can serve you a bowl of stew…”
