I had to think fast. Despite our heavy load, we were still too high on the sides for them to climb easily in without tipping the ship and our cargo. We had one length of rope we could use to help pull them in, but how to do it safely?
I quickly told the guys my plan, and we allowed the ship to coast toward the stranded vikings. When they neared, I shouted to them. “Listen! We will get you all out of the water, but I need you to be patient and not swamp our ship in your hurry to get dry. Do you understand?”
They grunted their affirmation, and I tossed the rope to the first one. Björn and Søren were the heaviest, so they moved to the opposite side of the ship to provide counterbalance, and Leif and I hauled on the rope to help the soaking warrior to climb aboard. He took up a position midship, grabbing the tail of the rope to help us haul up the next man.
Once we had all four aboard, we now had extra weight without extra oars for them to help us get moving. Thanks to continuous replenishment from my armor, I took a spot on an oar and let Søren captain us back to shore.
The trip was slow. We now sat precariously low in the water and the waves had picked up. But we had all of our sheep, and we had four additional, enormous, viking warriors aboard. It seemed as if Skarde had just picked the four heaviest men on his team to kick off with no consideration of their strength in rowing or skill at swimming.
Idiot.
When we finally scraped onto the rocky beach, the roar of the crowd brought a small grin to my lips. They watched us rescue the men Skarde threw overboard, and were not as admiring of his ruthlessness, suddenly.
Åse came forward and eyed me curiously, but said nothing. He counted the sheep in our boat, his eyes drifting repeatedly to the soaking vikings who now refused to rejoin Skarde’s team.
“Here are the numbers: Skarde brought over seventy-three of my sheep.” The crowd cheered. “Brenna brought over sixty-six sheep.” The crowd grew quiet, even though Skarde and a few of his cronies cheered.
“However…” Åse took a long pause, as if considering. “I would say that every man, woman, and child in my village is a member of my flock, and worth at least twice the value of a sheep. Since Brenna returned with four more men than she started with, I would say her number is seventy-four. Therefore, I declare Brenna the winner!”
There were some jeers—mainly from Skarde’s crew—but the vast majority of the villagers were pleased with this decision. It seemed it was actually possible for a viking to be too ruthless.
Skarde looked absolutely murderous, but as Åse stared calmly back at him, he seemed to think better of his ill intent and instead shoved his way through the crowd.
It was like the viking version of ‘try me bitch’ and I almost lost it. Even in the mid-800’s A.D., men were fucking dramatic.
Åse approached me with a benevolent expression. “I cannot grant you status as lead ship, since Skarde already won that privilege. However, if you continue to show this kind of… fortitude, it will be my pleasure to introduce you to the Jarl at the end of the season. I have a feeling we can expect to see more surprises from you, Brenna. Make sure your ship is ready for the first raid next week.” With a nod and a twinkling brown eye, the older man strode away, chatting with another villager.
“Brenna!” Björn’s booming voice drew my attention away from the village chieftain. I turned to see him approaching with the four dripping men we’d rescued from the depths of the fjord. “This is Halfdan, Njal, Sten, and Erik. They have requested to join our crew.”
Now that we were on solid ground, I could appreciate just how big these men were. Falling somewhere between Leif and Björn in height, every one of them was built like a solid oak, wide and muscular. I glanced at Søren, who nodded once, unsmiling, to give me his approval.
“Welcome to the crew, guys.” I beamed up at them. We needed more crew, and we found it. Skarde would be furious when he found out his gamble had backfired worse than he realized. We had certainly scored several of his best fighters, and that was going to cost him on every raid.
“The crew of what?” The tallest of the group asked, dark brown eyes crinkling around the edges as he grinned down at me. “What is your ship called?”
Leif apparently heard his question, because before I could answer he shouted, “The Valkyrie! Her name is The Valkyrie.”
I turned toward him with wide, horrified eyes. Leif’s bright cerulean gaze glittered, his smile absolutely mischievous.
“The Valkyrie… I like it,” grunted the man. “I’m Njal. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brenna.”
“The pleasure is mine, Njal.” When I accepted his handshake, his massive palm engulfed mine, and I couldn’t help but grin.
We were certainly on our way to claiming riches, glory, and, most importantly, an introduction to the Jarl.
Next week, we’d set sail for our first raid. I already had a few places in mind of where we could start, but I needed to verify our location first. A quick glance skyward told me the weather would be perfect for a little reconnaissance flight: light, fluffy clouds had rolled in, mostly obscuring the sky but nothing grey or threatening.
Just perfect for soaring.
A quick conversation with Søren would tell me our planned attack routes, and then I could navigate us toward the spots that held the richest spoils. The Jarl wouldn’t care if we went a little off course, so long as he benefitted from the mistake.
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