Bothvar Beorcolsson
As winter ends, my brother’s and my own child are born only a few days apart. He had a daughter and me, a son.
Holding my son for the first time, it felt like everything was leading up to this point in my life. His eyes are a deep blue, just like that of Arni’s. We decided to name him Hrut after Arni’s father. My father approves.
My brother and Asfrid named their daughter Thora, and she too has the same deep blue eyes as the sea. Asfrid was torn between the names Freyja, which also means Frida, the goddess she worships, and Thora. But ultimately, they chose Thora for a reason I wasn’t clear about. I believe it’s because of Thorkel’s obsession with Thunar, the name of his favorite god. The god also goes by a different name… Thor. I can’t help but think about what Sigvor said upon our wedding day as I look at her. What did she mean?
My father wants me to join him and Thorkel in the Captain’s meeting along with the crew meeting before they all leave for the All-Clan Meeting. Near the docks is a building with a long table within it. We follow farther inside as he takes his position at the end of the table while the nineteen captains file in and take their spots with their most trusted behind them.
After everyone is here, my father takes his seat and everyone else sits down after him. My brother takes a seat to his left while I stay standing behind Thorkel with Rognvald, our ship’s quartermaster and second in command. Since I’m not a captain myself, I have to remain standing. My father begins the meeting. “The meeting of the captains is now in session. Let us discuss this raiding season.”
They all give their agreement. My father nods. “Shall we continue our raids on the merchant ships moving to and from Chillshore, or does anyone have any other suggestions?”
“The elves are getting more protective of their merchant ships. The normal routes are becoming more dangerous, especially with the small numbers we raid in,” Koll says as he sits to the right of my father, a seat of the utmost respect.
“And what do you suppose we do about that?” Thrain Haklangsson asks with none other than Gorm standing behind him with a sneer. His eyes seem to fixate on Thorkel and me.
“We either need to raid in larger numbers which will decrease the profits we make individually, or find other routes,” Koll says. Another uproar rumbles through the captains.
“Where in the name of the gods would we sail?” Thrain Haklangsson asks. He is a man of pure greed. His face is covered in tattoos of his journeys and his hair is done in the traditional Viking way, with the sides shaved and the top in a long braid. He has a long goatee with a mustache. “There are no more profitable routes.”
“May I make a suggestion?” Thorkel asks and all eyes fall upon him.
“Earl Beorcol, I mean no disrespect, but you need to keep a muzzle on your son. This is a discussion between Captains,” Thrain spits out.
“Well, seeing how I will be giving the captain’s seat over to Thorkel this raiding season, I see no problem with him interjecting. He is a captain as of now. Now, Captain Thorkel, what is your suggestion?”
Thrain has murder in his eyes as he glares at Thorkel, but my brother gives him no more attention than he would give a bug beneath his feet. “Why do we not head west beyond the forest of the elves, and then south to the islands where Pirates sail? I hear there are shipping routes to many lands. I am sure there is more treasure to be plundered there.”
Father smiles as he looks out at his men. “That is a good suggestion, Captain. Does anyone have anything to say?”
“That is absurd. We will find ourselves surrounded by enemies in seas we know nothing about,” Thrain says. Spit flies out as he speaks. “I say we bring an army down and raid the Southerner’s main port of Riverhall.”
“Not all pirates are enemies. I’ve met an elven woman pirate with fiery red hair named Azariah who flew a red dragon flag. She was an honorable pirate and gave aid,” Father says.
“You want to attack one of their more fortified positions? We might as well take Chillshore back while we’re at it,” Koll says, slapping the table. My aunt, Ingithora, my mother’s youngest sister, stands behind him and puts her hand on his shoulder. My cousin, Veleif, Koll’s oldest son, stands on his other shoulder.
“At least we know what we’re in for. Sailing west, we might as well sail into the Merrow waters,” Kodran, a close friend of Thrain, says. He has no respect for anyone. His nose is so far up Thrain’s arse that it’s covered in shit. That’s why his beard is so brown. Behind him stands a man named Sigemaer Tjorvisson, a man who is not so bad, but will never prosper under such terrible leadership.
“Riverhall has a far bigger fleet of warships than we do. They would annihilate us unless we ally with the other clans. Even then, the only ones who have any ships are the Valkyrie, the Builders, and the Ice Tribe. But the Builders aren’t warriors. The Eagle Clan will never agree to go to war. Do you intend to ask the Wolf Clan for aid? That will certainly go over well,” Throst says. He supports and is a friend of my father. He’s a man of few words, but when he speaks, he speaks sense. His long, bright red hair is always done in a braid and he keeps his beard braided as well.
“I would sooner befriend a Merrow than a scum of the Wolf Clan,” Kodran says.
“We should just raid the Wolves. They deserve death,” Thrain says.
Sadly, many people in our town believe this, and I once was one of them. But since the wedding, I’ve been questioning my own hate of the Wolves. Baldric and Siv don’t seem all that different from us. They are two I can respect. However, Vidkunn and Bjarni seem quick to anger and know how to get under my father’s skin. Of course, he also lights a fire under their arses, so it goes both ways.
“If you attack them unprovoked, you’d give the other clans a reason to fight us out of fear we’d attack them too. Besides, we do not have enough men to fight them in their own woods. Their wolves alone would pick us apart. Even if we sail into the lake through the river, we’d be hard pressed to get past their defenses without losing many of our own,” Beorcol says with a bit of fire in his eyes. “Too many of our people have died fighting the Wolves. Besides, we have enough enemies outside of the North. We do not need to open old wounds and reburn bridges that were weakly rebuilt. Trust me, I have more reason than any to want the Wolves dead, but it is not worth the lives of our people. And provoking the Southerners might invoke their wrath, or did you forget what happened the last time we went to war with the south?”
That shut them up. At least on attacking either the Wolf Clan or the Southern ports. It surprises me my father would be against the war since it seems like it’s all he’s talked about ever since the last war with the south.
“I still think we shouldn’t risk going out west,” Thrain mutters.
“That is because you are a coward,” Einar Alriksson, my uncle Koll’s brother, says. He’s always been blunt with words and lets his thoughts be clear. I respect him for that, but it can get him into a lot of heat with others. Behind him stands his oldest son, Vog, and a woman named Brynhild Svartkollrdottir, the virgin woman who gave birth to a fatherless son. She is a true beauty and a warrior at that. I remember when Thorkel convinced the orphan boy Gudrod, my great uncle’s ward, to sneak into her tent and try to snag her undergarments… That did not work out so well. Her fatherless son, Thorvir, tossed him out on his arse. Thorvir Stormborn – which is what they call him since Brynhild gave birth to him on Einar’s ship in the middle of a storm only days after she found out she was even pregnant – is a fighter, to say the least. A bit of a temper, but he can rumble with the best of them. That is why I am surprised he is such a good friend to Thormar. Thormar may get into tussles with Bodvar when he’s pushed too far, but he generally avoids conflict.
“Let’s put it to a vote. Bring out the sticks,” father says. A slave brings out two cups of short sticks and another empty cup, placing them on a table to the side. The sticks in one cup are painted blue and the ones in the other are painted red. “Red is to go west and blue is to continue to raid the same shipping routes to Chillshore. Vote now or be silent.”
The captains all get up and get in line to vote, taking a stick from one cup and placing it into the empty one. From what I can see, the voting is close. My father’s loyal supporters, Einar Alriksson, Throst Thorhallson, and Koll Alricksson along with Thorkel, all vote to go west while all of Thrain Haklangsson’s friends, Sibbi Hreitharrsson, Kodran Steinmodsson, and Vebrand Haraldsson, vote to continue raiding the ships that head into Chillshore. The vast majority of the captains are mostly neutral and seem to be split down the middle. When the voting stops, the votes are counted out loud.
Unfortunately, raiding the Chillshore route won by one vote. Father’s face remains neutral. “It is determined that we will continue to raid the merchant ships that sail to and from Chillshore. Thrain, you, Sibbi, Kodran, and Vebrand will take your ships north and spread out to catch any ships coming south. Sigeheah, Harald, and Hogni, you will also go north with Thrain. Make sure you all spread out; you can determine the position amongst yourselves. The rest will go south and sail the bay. We’ll travel in three groups of four ships. Thorkel, Koll, Einar, and Throst will be in the group to the west. Bjalki, Stigandi, Arnfinn, and Ufi will sail along the coastline. And Athils, Steinunn, Kiogrim, and Geitirgest will cut the difference in between. Any questions?” They all shake their heads. “Good, let’s prepare to set out so we can leave after we get back from the All-Clan Meeting. Meet with your groups and discuss your plans. The meeting of Captains is adjourned,” father says as the men all file out, talking amongst themselves.
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