Bothvar Beorcolsson
We return to the village just in time to gather with the others. Eawyn steps in front of the crowd. “Another winter has come and gone. Spring has brought its blossoms, and soon summer will be upon us. Raids will begin, and we will earn our continued survival. We must not forget that we may be separate clans, but we are all of one people. People of the North. One tribe, one heart, and one mind. There will be a time when we must put our differences aside to come together as one tribe under one kingdom once again. When we will be faced with an enemy that seeks to destroy who we are to make us what we are not. The Southerners only seek to make us servants of their Tyrant Usurper. Will any of you bend the knee?”
The crowd roars a defining answer of its refusal to bow down. Eawyn waits for the crowd to die down before she continues. “Then you must stand together and fight for your freedom. You must set aside your petty squabbles.”
She looks right at my father and the Earl of the Wolf Clan. “You must put aside your hate for each other and fight side by side with your rivals. Only when we unite as one clan can we be victorious. Remember, when you raid this summer, you raid as one clan. Everything we take from the Southerners is a victory towards not just our freedom from their tyranny, but our rule over these lands. Not just these lands, but all human lands.”
The crowd cheers its approval, whistling, clapping their hands, and stomping the ground. “Now we depart from each other and go our separate ways for now. But soon, war will be upon us. Ready yourselves and prepare for it. Until then, take what you can from the Southerners and show them why it is wise to fear us.”
The crowd erupts in a deafening roar, clapping each other on the shoulders, raising their fists, and hollering their approval again. After things die down, we all slowly disperse.
Scyra comes up to me and extends her hand. I nod, taking it and giving it a shake. “Take care, Shadow Killer. I hope we meet again.”
“You as well. Ice Wielder. We will meet again. From what it sounds like, war is coming sooner or later. It would be an honor to fight by your side,” I say. I really do need to come up with better names… Ice Wielder, really?
“As it would be for me to fight by yours,” she says with a smile. “Now take care of your family. I’ll keep in touch with the yeti.”
“That would be much appreciated. And you take care of yours,” I say. We nod and part ways.
I say goodbye to Amalasontha and Amalgunda, as they both show me great honor. Father had to meet one last time with Eawyn and the others before he joins us.
Now comes the hard part. Bodvar is not happy about going with the Wolves. None of us really are. Slaves pile all the things Bodvar brought with him. Father assures him that they will send someone over with the rest of his things that he will need. He makes a long list of the stuff he wants to be brought over.
Bodvar stomps and throws a tantrum about having to live with them. “This isn’t fair! Why do I have to go to the filthy Wolf Clan? Why can’t Thormar go? I’ve got my own purpose. I haven’t even been able to raid yet. I hate them. I hate them all.”
I take a deep breath in and pull him aside. I feel sorry for him. I don’t know if I hate them as much as he or father, but I do feel a strong disliking towards some of them. At least for Vidkunn and Bjarni. I have to admit that I kind of respect the twins, Baldric and Siv. At least from what I’ve heard and seen of them. I don’t necessarily like them, but it is like that of a bear respecting a wolf. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kill them if I had to, but those two are different from the elder two. There is something in their eyes that shows how different they are. I feel that we are not that different from each other. I feel some kind of bond that warriors feel for one another. It’s like a brotherhood. Of course, they are all warriors. I cannot deny that. “Listen, little brother, you can’t always choose your fights. All you can do is make the best of what you have. Besides, haven’t you seen Vidkunn’s daughters? I hear they are very pleasant on the eyes. Very beautiful. I also hear they are fierce warriors. Maidens in every sense of the word.”
“Really?” Bodvar asks, slanting his head in obvious skepticism.
“I would not lie to you,” I say, and I am not lying. Surprisingly, the oaf somehow was given beautiful daughters. Obviously, it was his wife who gave them to him, since he is as ugly as a cow pie, not that I am a good judge of a man’s handsomeness.
“I just don’t know… There’s no way they can be that skilled in fighting. Not like us,” he says.
“Possibly. But don’t you want to bed a pretty woman?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I mean, I guess. I like Vigdis.”
I crank my head to the side at his preference. Vigdis? Solmund’s youngest sister? She is his age, but she is not one I’d consider pretty. She definitely has the potential to be a great warrior and is rather fearless, but pretty? No. Definitely not like Arngunn. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon. I’ll admit that Scyra is a close second. She had eyes I’d never seen before aside from her mother, along with that unnatural snow-white hair. And her face is as beautiful as it gets next to Arngunn’s. “Vigdis? Why her? Why not someone like Einar’s daughter, Thorgunna? Or even her sister Gudfrid? She might be on the more masculine side, but she has a pretty face.”
“Gudfrid, maybe. I seen her knock a man out once. That got me excited. But Vigdis is fearless. She knows how to have fun. I want a woman that can keep up with me and knows how to have fun,” he says.
Now I understand, he just wants a woman as crazy as he is. That makes sense, I guess. “Well, my brother, you are in luck. There is no one crazier than those Wolf women. They are beyond crazy.”
He narrows his eyes, tilting his head. Then runs a hand through his blonde hair. “What do you mean, crazy? I don’t want a woman who doesn’t have a full quiver. Definitely no one like Throst’s daughter, Arngunn. Or Grom’s woman. Or his sister. They are crazy. One moment they are all nice and the next moment they are screaming at you. I don’t want that.”
I laugh hard. “No… Not that kind of crazy. I heard they’re more like you. They have a thirst for battle and adventure. All the Wolf women do. They love to fight and raid. For the sake of the gods, they have wolves for pets. That’s the kind of crazy they are. Completely fearless.”
His eyes light up. “Really?”
I nod. “You’ll have to be careful. I’m sure they’ll want to fight you.”
He scratches his chin. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. At least if they are like you say. Any woman who’s not afraid to fight a man is my kind of woman.”
My brother has always been an odd one, but I can somewhat understand his taste. I do find it sexy when a woman knows how to handle a sword, but it is not something I prefer. Arngunn would never pick up a sword. She didn’t care much for fighting. Once Bodvar says goodbye to all his friends and to my surprise he has many, our entire family gathers to meet with the Wolf Clan and, of course, they have their entire family as well.
Bjarni and his wife and son; Vidkunn and his wife; Vidkunn’s sons, their wives and children, and his daughters; and Bjarni’s daughter and her two children, Baldric and Siv, all stand waiting for us in the village. The rest of the city seems to have gathered around, including Eawyn, Kadal, and Scyra.
Bodvar pulls at my sleeve. I lean down as he whispers in my ear. “Which ones are Vidkunn’s daughters?”
I look at Vidkunn and find his wife next to him, along with his youngest son, Gadaric, who will come with us. Next to the young pup is Vidkunn’s oldest son, Thorgrim, and his wife, with their children whose names I can’t remember. Next to him is his second oldest son, Thorhall, and then there are his two daughters. And they are beautiful. One’s a little on the muscular side, but the other is around Bodvar’s age. I barely manage to fight the smile, trying to conquer my lips as I bring them to my brother’s ear. “The ones standing on the far right of the oaf beyond his sons.”
He nods as he eyes them. One of them has blonde hair like the mother while the other shares dark brown, almost black hair like the oaf himself.
Bodvar once again tugs at my sleeve. I lean in and he whispers in my ear. “Which one is the warrior?”
“They both are,” I say in a whisper. “I think.”
“Huh,” he says with a huff while scratching his chin. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
We walk down to meet with Bjarni, his oaf of a son, and his daughter, who rather reminds me of a combination of my mother and her sisters, oddly enough. Maybe not all the Wolves are as stupid as the oaf. The oaf’s two oldest sons share their mother’s blonde hair. Only the younger one is as ugly as the father. Gadaric is the pretty boy who has yet to grow a beard. It’s hard not to doubt whether he’s even held a sword or an ax. The boy looks soft. Not like Bodvar, who might not be the brightest of us, but is fearless nonetheless and knows how to fight. This is a terrible trade. We are getting screwed. There is no doubt about it. Trading my brother, who has the potential to be one of the best warriors for a prissy Wolf pup who doesn’t know one end of a sword from the other. May the gods help us.
“Beorcol,” the old Wolf leader says. I heard he was a great warrior, but I only see a fat old man who’s gotten comfortable with his rule. Vidkunn is definitely an oaf, but at least he has the shape of a warrior. The only warriors with any potential are the oaf’s oldest son and his daughters, along with the twins of the old Wolf’s daughter. Those two I need to be very careful around. Something tells me they know how to swing a blade. Even more importantly, I bet they know how to lead a battle. Leading war is far more dangerous than only knowing how to fight man on man. My father has definitely taught me that. Besides, I’ve seen the wolves they command first hand and I won’t forget it.
“Bjarni,” my father says, without showing a hint of fear or hesitation. “Here we are, as agreed.”
“So, it seems. Well, no one can ever say that Bjarni Vikarsson has ever broken his word. We agreed to trade sons, and so we shall. Although, I have much doubt on how good of a trade it will be.”
“That we can agree upon, but from different sides of the argument,” father says.
“Let’s get this over with so we all can be on our way,” Bjarni says.
“Another thing we can agree on,” father says, holding out his hands.
“Then say your farewells to your son and let us say ours to my grandson,” Bjarni says and father nods.
We all turn to Bodvar, who doesn’t show an ounce of emotion. Figures all it takes is a woman of his liking to make him eager to go with the Wolves. I suppose that is something all the sons of Beorcol share. Well… I’m not so sure about Thormar yet.
My mother is the first to approach Bodvar. “Don’t get into too much trouble, son. I know you will. Just don’t give them any reasons to attack you. They’ll be all too eager to.”
My brother smirks. “Good, I hope they do. I’d love to test my strength against theirs.”
“That’s my boy,” father says, earning steely cold eyes from my mother. “Just don’t get yourself killed and try not to kill any of them. We don’t want this shitty deal to be for nothing.”
Bodvar nods, his smile growing even deeper.
“Don’t be such a fool, little brother,” Thormar says. Bodvar punches him in the shoulder. “Ouch, what was that for?”
Bodvar’s grin deepens. “I had to get at least one last hit on you. We won’t see each other for a long time. Who am I going to fight with when you’re all the way in Stormfront?”
Thormar smiles and then punches him back, which earns a laugh from Bodvar. Tears fall from my mother’s eyes. “I hope you boys never change.”
“Oh mom, don’t worry. We won’t,” Bodvar says.
Svala then punches him, too. “I’ll miss you, little brother.”
“Don’t worry, sis. I won’t be long. Once they realize I’m a warrior better than any among them, they’ll learn to respect our clan and I’ll be home before you know it,” he says with his cocky smile. She smacks him on the backside of his head. “What was that for?”
“Your head was getting too big. I needed to deflate it a little,” she says, earning a chuckle from us all.
Then Thora steps up and punches him in the gut, nearly dropping him to his knees. “For the love of the bloody gods. Who taught you to punch like that?”
“You did, stupid,” she says with a smile. “You and Uncle Bothvi.”
“You definitely had some excellent teachers, and you learned well,” he says, still holding his gut.
She then leaps at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m going to miss you, Uncle Bodvi. Don’t be stupid and stay there too long.”
He hugs her back. “I won’t. I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t worry. We’ll be sparring with each other long before any war ever comes.”
She looks up at him. “Is that a promise?”
He nods. “Of course, it is.”
She steps back and goes to punch him again, but he was expecting it this time and blocks it. But he wasn’t expecting the kick to the shin. That makes him nearly stumble over as he tries to balance on one foot while holding the shin of the other. “Bloody mother of goat shit.”
I can only laugh at the fool boy. He brings this onto himself for being such a fearless fool. I mess up his hair as he regains his footing. He tries to push my hand away and goes to punch me, but is not fast enough. I am, though, and land one on the thigh, giving him one of those stinging horse kickers we call ’em. “Bloody bearded pig fucker.”
“Oh, little brother, when will you learn you’re just not fast enough to land a hit on me?” I say with a smile.
“Maybe not now, but you just wait. After I show these Wolves a thing or two about fighting, I’ll come back even stronger and faster. We’ll see who can land a hit on who then,” he says, smiling like the fool boy he is.
“Come here, you fool,” I say, pulling him into a bear hug. “Stay out of trouble and don’t come on too strong with those girls. They’ll try to cut your throat.”
His eyes go wide. “Really?”
I only shrug. “They are Wolves.”
“That’ll be exciting. Nothing like a dangerous woman to make the heart beat a little faster. It makes the game much more fun,” he says with a grin. Stupid boy. I mess his hair up even more.
My Aunt Sigvor steps up and hugs him. “Don’t get yourself killed. I won’t be there to patch you up.”
“I won’t, aunty. Besides, they’re only Wolves. I’ll have more scratches from these weaklings than I’ll ever get from those dogs,” Bodvar says with a smile.
“Hey! We heard that,” Svala says.
“Oh, come on sister. I was only joking,” he says, giving her a grin and a wink. “Besides, it was a compliment. I was just saying how skilled you are at inflicting pain compared to the Wolves.”
“A backhanded one,” she says under her breath.
He only shrugs. My father steps up and puts his hands on Bodvar’s shoulders. “Listen, son, the peace between our tribes is stacked on your shoulders. Earn their respect and trust, and you will earn the debt of our entire people. Don’t let them goad you into doing something stupid. Sometimes you’ll have to swallow your pride. There’s no shame in it. Just don’t get yourself killed. Okay?”
“Relax, father. I know. I won’t do anything too stupid,” he says. My father pulls him into a hug before patting him on the shoulder with a respectful nod.
Finally, Bodvar grabs his packs with the help of the slaves and steps away, taking one last glance back at us before he heads over to the Wolves, walking past Gadaric who makes his way over with his own packs followed by a cat-looking being who walks upon two legs. I’ve seen them before. They’ve been on the elven slave ships. Few have even taken them as pets. Father looks at Bjarni, completely ignoring the boy and his pet. “Make sure no harm comes to my son and I’ll do the same.”
Bjarni nods. “That’s one more thing we can agree upon. As long as you keep Gadaric from harm, Bodvar won’t come to it either.”
Father only nods. “Until we meet again.”
Bjarni nods. Then father turns away and walks to our ship with us following behind. I take one last look at my little brother, who gives me a nod as he watches us leave. My eyes then meet Baldric and his sister. Surprisingly, he gives me a nod in acknowledgment. I return it before I turn and head for the ship.
The voyage back feels hollow. Especially without Bodvar to stir chaos. This day brings a clear sky with a deep everlasting blue and one of the three moons sits on the horizon.
No one speaks to Gadaric. He’s left alone with his pet. No one except Thora. She walks right up to him and eyes him. “You don’t look so tough.”
He looks down at her and smiles. He shrugs. “I know my way around a weapon.”
“I would like to see that,” she says.
“Have we spoken before? You seem familiar,” he says.
“No. I don’t think so. Why would I talk to a Wolf?” she asks.
He only shrugs. “It seems your family doesn’t like me much.”
She snorts a laugh. “Why would they? They don’t like Wolves very much. We’re sea people. We don’t care to be on land much. We’re true Vikings.”
He shrugs. “Clearly, you’ve never raided a caravan on the roads. It can be very exciting.”
She only shrugs. Gadaric points out into the deep blue sea. “Look… Are those…”
“Oh, those? They’re just my friends. My uncle calls them killer whales, but they’re harmless,” she says as surprise grips my chest. I walk over to the side of the boat and sure as the deep blue sky, a family of killer whales are trailing our ship. I swallow the lump in my throat. They’re always acting strangely when Thora is around. I look over at Thora and gape. Sigvor’s words really ring true.
“I can barely hear what they are saying,” Gadaric says.
She looks at him and whispers something I can hardly make out beyond the waves. He nods. What does all this mean? The voyage home is short, and no one is in a good mood. Especially Svala and, surprisingly, Thormar. They both stay to themselves. Home just won’t be the same without Bodvar.
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