Blood Eagle: A riveting historical thriller Read online

  That day I finally understood what it meant to be struck with The Mighty Passion. In the days that followed our meeting, I had been unable to sleep yet hadn’t felt tired when the sun rose because my nights had been filled with thoughts of Thora. The mere thought of her was invigorating. I began to live for when I would get to see her again, be with her, talk to her, touch her. Even after our swift betrothal, my love kept growing, and I counted down the days to our wedding feast when I would get to share a bed with her at last.

  As I pondered the extraordinary beauty of my new wife and her fortunate entry into my life, Hilda appeared at the wedding table.

  “Leif, how about a dance?” she asked, smiling wide.

  Throwing a glance back at Ragnar, I saw that he and Sven were in the midst of discussing one of the poems recited in conjunction with the wedding ceremony. I returned Hilda’s smile and got to my feet. I offered her my arm and led her to the yard in front of my family’s longhouse, which had been turned into a dance area. Couples kept dancing wildly to the lively tunes the two fiddlers played, accompanied by a flutist, even though it was morning now.

  “Where have you been?” I said in a mock reproachful tone. “I haven’t seen you all night.” We passed long wooden tables filled with guests still eating and drinking as though they had been starving. A couple of boys engaged in a wrestling match with men standing around, cheering and making bets as to who would win.

  “Oh, I have been here,” Hilda replied. “You just haven’t seen me. All you’ve had eyes for is Thora. And who can blame you? That is just the place where the eyes of a newlywed husband should rest. She is a lucky girl.”

  I nodded and bid her to dance just as a bow-legged man in a leaf-green tunic shouted out a joke that was met with roaring laughter. We began moving to the music, which suddenly slowed down considerably for some reason. The new song allowed us to dance at a calmer, more enjoyable pace.

  Neither Hilda nor I said anything at first but just listened to the music, grateful that the feisty little band seemed to have tired of playing faster tunes. Then Hilda lifted her head and looked at me. “Did you hear what Berit the Seeress predicted at the birth of Holmstein’s second daughter?”

  “No, what did she predict?”

  “She said that the girl would become more lustful than her uncles had ever been. She would travel to Denmark and England to find men to satisfy her every need. She would even have two men at the same time. Three, if she could.”

  “Really? Was Holmstein there when she said this?”

  “Yes. It was a day after Edna had given birth.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “I can only imagine what Holmstein must have done. Surely he threw her out?”

  “No, Edna told him they should not hide from what is to come, no matter how awful. It is better to know and be prepared than be taken off guard when it eventually happens.”

  I stared at Hilda. “What? She cannot pay attention to what Berit is saying! She is just a silly old woman who likes to make life harder for others than it already is.”

  “She does pay attention.”

  I shook my head. “Poor Holmstein. What that man has to put up with. What else did Berit predict? That the girl would develop two heads and a tail?”

  Hilda giggled. “Something like that. She is to give birth to twins that are connected by the waist.”

  “Wow. That one must love his wife. To put up with such stupid talk.”

  We lapsed into silence. Enjoying the quiet, I looked at the girl in my arms. I contemplated the long, ashy blond curls that surrounded the face with the wide hazel eyes. It was a sweet, trusting face, not beautiful or even pretty—except for when it was parted by a smile. It was as though someone lit a candle within Hilda then. She smiled in that moment, as if prompted by my thoughts.

  “You look beautiful tonight, Hilda.”

  “Thank you. But not as beautiful as Thora, right?”

  “More beautiful,” I lied, bending down so that I could whisper into her ear. “But don’t tell her that.”

  Hilda’s smile widened and a stab of guilt tore through my stomach. I knew what that big smile was hiding. Even though Hilda had kissed and congratulated us both with sincere warmth and even though she kept looking me steady in the eye now, I knew that it was all just a cover-up so I would not feel bad for having chosen to marry someone else.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning my head, I discovered Ragnar standing behind me. He removed his hand and grinned. “What are you doing here? I thought we were going to have a horn of mead together.” He snickered. “You are scared, huh? Scared that I am right. One more drink and you will pass out right in front of everyone. You will pass out and your beautiful new wife will realize what a weakling you really are.”

  I let go of Hilda and turned around completely. Staring at my friend and foster brother, I swallowed my displeasure. Someone needed to make sure Ragnar stayed clear of the mead; I had had enough of his shenanigans now. “I am never scared, Ragnar,” I stated in a firm tone. “You know this as well as anyone else does. Now go sit down and let me and your sister finish our dance.”

  Ragnar’s face twisted in anger. “Don’t tell me what to do, Blackhair!” Then he shoved me so hard I almost fell backwards onto the grass. Ragnar may be short, but he was strong like an ox. Hilda grabbed my arm to help steady me.

  Almost not able to control myself any longer, I said through clenched teeth, “You are drunk, Ragnar. Go sleep it off somewhere and leave me alo—”

  At first I wasn’t sure what had happened when my chin suddenly exploded with pain, stars flashing before my eyes. But then I saw Ragnar massaging his fist while staring at me furiously. The rogue was asking for it... I threw myself over him, pushing him violently to the ground. I only managed to pound his face a couple times before I felt people grabbing my arms, dragging me off the other man.

  “That’s enough, Leif,” Erik said, who was keeping my right arm in a tight grip. “He is drunk and out of his mind. You know how he gets.”

  My chin still aching, I turned to Erik. He blew his long auburn hair out of his freckled face and grinned at me. “I don’t think I have ever seen him drink as much as he has done this night,” he said and threw a glance at Ragnar. “But even Ragnar has his limits.” Nudging me, Erik nodded toward Ragnar on the ground. “See?”

  I turned and looked at Ragnar. He had passed out and was snoring loudly, the rising sun’s first diffident rays having found his square face. His mouth was wide open, like a baby bird waiting to be fed by the mama bird. I shook my head. Yes, that Ragnar sure was one of a kind.

  10

  Around midday Ingun yelled for Thorvald and Olaf to get off their horses; it was time for a break. Thorvald jumped off his horse and pulled me down as well. Back on my feet again, Thorvald and Olaf shoved me toward a clearing, while Ingun took the horses to water them in some stream he had spotted nearby.

  “Sit down,” Olaf lisped gruffly and pressed downward on my shoulder. I squatted onto the damp forest ground. Placing the reindeer pelt beside me that he had kept between his ass and the horse’s back, Olaf sat down on it. Thorvald appeared with a heap of tinder, sticks, and leaves in his arms, which he put on the ground in front of me and Olaf. He retrieved a flint stone, a short candle, and an eating knife from a leather pouch attached to the belt around his trim waist. Scraping the knife against the sharp stone until sparks appeared, he lit the candle. He brought the flaming candle to the pile and set it on fire. Olaf fetched what was left of the grouse that he had gutted and cut up yesterday, and stuck parts of it on wooden spits. He handed the spits to Olaf and Ingun, who had just returned from watering the horses. They immediately began grilling the meat over the crackling fire.

  The smell of the cooking meat reached my nose and my stomach growled loudly.

  Olaf turned to me and gave me an evil grin. A wide, black hole interrupted his otherwise even row of teeth, making him look like the lowliest of slaves. “I hope you are very hungry,”
he lisped, and I could tell he meant every word.

  I knew I had better keep quiet, but I couldn’t stop my stomach from growling again. And again. And then a third time, so forcefully it seemed the sound had come from outside of my body instead of from within. Olaf stared at me, looking like he too was thinking the growl had been unusually loud, its origin strangely airborne. Had it in fact been airborne? We both turned our heads at the same time and glanced behind our backs.

  Only steps away from us, a brown bear was standing on its hind legs, growling angrily, his teeth bared. I heard myself gasp loudly, for I had never before seen such a huge creature. It was enormous, the crown of its head reaching the size of two and a half grown men piled on top of each other.

  “Bear!” Olaf lisped in shock, dropping his spit and shooting to his feet. Pulling out his sword from its scabbard, he turned to face the enormous animal, his feet wide apart. Ingun and Thorvald had gotten to their feet, too, but while Ingun got into fighting stance next to Olaf, his sword in his hand, Thorvald swiveled his head in all directions, as if searching for something. His head stopped moving when his eyes fixed on a tall pine about thirty steps away. He sprinted toward it. Having reached it, he began to climb it.

  Watching how Ingun and Olaf were in the midst of fighting the bear, I pushed myself up into a standing position and took off running.

  “He’s escaping!” Thorvald yelled from the pine. “Someone catch him!”

  I threw a quick glance over my shoulder. Both Olaf and Ingun had already sustained several scratches from the bear’s thrashing paws despite fighting it bravely with their swords. Olaf yelled for Ingun to go after me and leave him to take down the bear on his own. Ingun immediately obeyed.

  “Don’t let him get away!” Thorvald screamed from where he perched like a bird on a tree branch.

  No longer taking in the wild scene behind me, I ran for my life. Ingun closed in on me fast. I tried to pick up the pace, but having my hands tied behind my back made it hard to gain speed. Then my foot got caught under a protruding tree root and I tripped. I crashed onto the ground, the foot still stuck under the root. The pain in my ankle was so fierce I screamed out loud.

  Did I break it? I could feel myself grimace with agonizing pain.

  Only moments later, Ingun had launched himself on top of me. Turning my face toward him, he straddled me. He was breathing hard and blood seeped forth from the three parallel cuts the bear had created with its paw on his cheek, right above the man’s thick beard. I could hear Olaf roaring for Thorvald to come down and help him or the bear would take him. Judging from the desperation in his voice, Thorvald must be staying put, though. Ingun must have figured that I was unlikely to go far in my current condition, for he got back to his feet and dashed back to help Olaf.

  I tried to stand up, but without the help of my hands and the ability to put weight on both feet, I kept falling down again and again.

  “Thorva…--aagh!!” Olaf yelled and soon after that I heard a sickening thump. I rolled over so that I faced the fighting men. Olaf was lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from what looked like several injuries, while Ingun slashed and slashed with his sword at the raging beast, rarely reaching it. Instead of keeping it at bay, it only seemed to get closer and angrier. Strangely, it also appeared to have grown larger… I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. Suddenly, the beast knocked the sword out of Ingun’s hand. Weaponless now, Ingun swiveled around and took off running, seemingly without direction.

  “Climb a tree, Ingun! Climb a tree!” Thorvald yelled from his tree top.

  At the sound of Thorvald’s voice, Ingun stopped and changed direction. Instead of running mindlessly, he now headed toward the pine tree in which Thorvald perched far above ground.

  “No, not this one,” Thorvald yelled, his voice tinny with fear. But Ingun either didn’t care or didn’t hear him, because he continued in just that direction and soon reached the stately pine. He began climbing Thorvald’s tree.

  “No, Ingun, no! Climb another tree.”

  Ingun mounted the pine faster than I had ever seen anyone ascend any tree, but the bear was right behind him and was a fast climber, too. It was only a couple boughs away when Ingun reached the one where Thorvald sat as if frozen, hugging the stem of the pine hard.

  “Keep climbing!” Ingun screamed at his brother, but Thorvald didn’t respond and just sat there, blocking Ingun from getting any higher up.

  The bear swiped a huge paw at Ingun and just barely missed his leg.

  “Thorvald, you have to keep climbing!” The terror in Ingun’s voice was so palpable it made my stomach jump. The bear swiped with its paw again, this time getting a chunk out of Ingun’s leg. Ingun cried with pain. “It’s getting me, Thorvald! You have to move.”

  But instead of moving, Thorvald just hugged the stem tighter. Ingun grabbed a hold of his brother’s leg and tried to pull him aside. Thorvald didn’t budge, he was so terrified.

  “Wake up, Thorvald! Wake up.”

  Right at that moment, the huge, furry beast had caught up with Ingun. It bit into the poor man’s chest and grabbed him by the waist with both its paws. Trashing his upper body furiously, the bear tore Ingun off the bough so that he was dangling in the air. All that stopped him from falling to the ground was his grip on Thorvald’s leg. The bear moved on to Thorvald, biting him in the leg that Ingun didn’t hold on to. Suddenly awake now, Thorvald roared with pain and tried to stand up in the tree, but Ingun’s grip on his thigh stopped him from getting anywhere.

  “Let go of me, Ingun!” But before Ingun could do so, the bear had pushed Thorvald off the bough. Both brothers crashed to the stone-covered ground, producing a horrible thud-thud sound as they hit it. Thorvald’s helmet flew off his head from the impact and rolled a few steps. The bear let out a loud growl and contemplated contentedly the immobile, bleeding men on the ground. Then he calmly began to descend the tree.

  My heart pounding furiously in my chest, I prayed that the beast had failed to notice me where I lay only about forty steps away from the tall pine. In case it had, I figured that I had better make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible. I rolled onto my side and brought my knees to my chin, and I tried to breathe without making any sound. Something told me this bear was unlike any other I had run into. Anything could happen with it. Peering at the tree, I saw it jumping onto the ground. It stopped and looked around. Raising its snout, it sniffed the air, its eyes searching the surroundings. It lumbered over to where Ingun and Thorvald lay, both of them covered in blood now. Thorvald, still alive, pushed himself up on his elbows and stared at the bear. “Go away, you beast! Go away!”

  But instead of going away, the bear leaped onto Thorvald and buried its teeth in the man’s now unprotected head. The sound of pain that came out of Thorvald’s mouth made my heart stop beating momentarily. As the bear continued to devour his head, the sound was cut short. Then, done with the head, it went for the dead man’s shoulders, arms, and chest. When little remained of Thorvald’s upper half, it moved onto Ingun, whom he sniffed lightly. Not finding Ingun appetizing for some reason, it turned around and began walking—to where I was lying.

  I was so scared I felt certain I would pass out at any moment, but I didn’t. The beast only steps away from me, I stopped breathing. Maybe, if I play dead, it will ignore me now that it has fed, I thought, paralyzed. It stopped right beside me. I could feel its cold, wet snout as it sniffed my face, ear, and neck. Frozen with fear, I rambled inside my head silent prayers to all the gods, promising that I would do anything if only the beast would leave me alone. I stared at a rusty oak leaf lying on the ground, not daring to blink, not to mention breathe.

  As suddenly as the bear began sniffing me, it stopped. I could sense it turn away from me, then lumber off. Thankfully, the sound of its heavy paws became fainter and fainter. Soon, all I could hear was the wind seeping through the trees, making a soft rustle.

  I remained on the ground until I thought the bear had left for goo
d. I stayed in the same position for a considerable while longer before I dared moving my head so that I could thoroughly scan my surroundings on that side. When I had made certain nothing was there, I slowly rolled over onto my back and looked in the other direction. No bear in sight. First then did I open my mouth and let out the breath I felt like I had been holding since the bear first approached me.

  As my eyes glided over the underbrush, I saw that Olaf moved his head. He is alive still? I pushed myself into a sitting position. Now that I was alone and no one chasing me, I managed to figure out how to stand up by putting all my weight onto my uninjured foot first. I tried walking and determined that I must not have broken my ankle after all, just twisted it badly. If I was careful, I could put some weight on it and move around. Of course, I doubted I would get very far walking like that, and even if I did, it would surely take forever.

  Olaf must have heard me, for he grunted something. I limped in his direction, avoiding to look closely at either Ingun’s lifeless body with its multiple bites and scratches or what was left of Thorvald. I couldn’t help but wonder since when bears started taking such delight in devouring humans. The blood was everywhere and I had to tread carefully so as not to slip on it.

  Olaf gazed at me with bloodshot eyes when I reached him. He was severely bitten and scratched, and lying in a pool of his own blood. Judging from the paleness of his face, little blood must be left in his veins. There was nothing I could do to save him. Very soon he would draw his last breath.

  “So you told the truth then,” Olaf said, his voice weak. I could tell it was hard for him to speak, but that he wanted to. “You are innocent. That was why the bear spared you and not us. The gods sent him to free you. I should have let you go when I could.”