Conqueror

X

Some days after her talk with Rhodri, as the whale-blubber candles burned smokily in the hall and the conversation rumbled contentedly, Gudrid approached her father with her suggestion that he should go back to Lindisfarena.

She wasn't surprised when he was sceptical.

'It might be fun to split open a few monkish heads,' Bjarni said. 'But it's not what we're going there for.'

'Then what?'

'Land. We need more land, Gudrid.'

Bjarni was a hefty man, with greying blond hair tied back from a high forehead, and a nose sharp as an axe blade. In his forty-five years he had done his share of fighting, but Gudrid knew that he had earned his muscles in building up his farms. He was not a natural raider, not bloodthirsty; he was embarking on this course of action for a wider purpose.

Bjarni was following in the footsteps of many of his elders. Like bees venturing from a hive, the ships of the Vikings were probing out of the overcrowded fjords. This was not directed by any king, for kings were weak in a land so divided by nature, but by the ambition of independent, wilful men. That probing was aimed not just at Britain and its islands but at the warmer lands further south, and even to the east, where huge rivers drained the heart of Asia, just as navigable by Viking ships as were the seas.

'The first raids are always vital. The German kingdoms in Britain are fragile, fractious, riven by internal strife. Everybody knows that. In the long term we should achieve great success against them. But the cheaper the success the better, as far as I'm concerned. And the element of surprise is everything.' He smiled at her. 'And that's why it would be a mistake to go chasing your dream of a family legend.'

'I won't deny that's what I want,' she said. 'But, Father, listen to me. There are other reasons to go to Lindisfarena. Those monks are rich. Richer than you'd imagine.'

He shook his head. 'That makes no sense. Nobody would store riches in such as vulnerable place as a coastal island.'

'You're thinking like a seafarer, not a Christian. Father, the monks came to Lindisfarena to convert their countrymen to their faith. They wanted a safe place to live. But the threat in their eyes came from the land, not the sea. And so they chose to live on a tidal island because it is hard to reach from the land. It doesn't even seem to have occurred to them that an attack might come from the sea. They will be quite defenceless.' She repeated what Rhodri had told her, about how pilgrims brought their money to give to the monastery. 'Believe me, those monks on Lindisfarena are rich!'

'Believe you, or a slave on the make?' He thought it over. 'All right, child. Just this one time we'll do as you say – if the others agree. One thing, though: are you sure this prophecy is worth all the trouble? Doesn't it speak of the Christ? Everybody knows the Christ is a powerful god. He has His adherents even here. Some of the men might fear tangling with His worshippers.'

She grinned. 'The Christ let Himself be nailed to a tree. I'd back Woden in a fight any time. Just give him a hammer!'

He grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. 'Gudrid, I've said it before and I'll say it again. Sometimes I wish you could be more like your sister Birgitta. But you have the mind of a son-'

'And the womb of one too,' she said bleakly.

He covered her hand with his. 'Have patience.'

'There's one more thing,' she said, pushing her luck. 'The raid on Lindisfarena.'

'Yes?'

'I'm coming too.' And she bolted from the hall before he had a chance to refuse.