The Lord of Vik-Lo: A Novel of Viking Age Ireland (The Norsemen Saga Book 3) Read Free

that he was heading for shore. He did not bother trying to explain why.
      An hour before sunset both ships were hauled up and guards were posted in a wide arc around the camp to defend against any surprises. By Grimarr and Fasti’s reckoning they were well within the land ruled by the Irishman Lorcan mac Fáeláin. The Northmen might call this place Vík-ló but to the Irish it was Cill Mhantáin and it was Lorcan’s country. Grimarr had come to understand that every pathetic cow pasture or squalid cluster of huts in Ireland had a king, what the Irish called a rí túaithe , and most of them were no more kings or warriors than the peasants over whom they lorded their authority.
      But not so Lorcan mac Fáeláin. Lorcan was very much a king, even if the territory he ruled was barely large enough to be called a kingdom. Grimarr had no doubt that Lorcan was eager to expand that kingdom - and he had the men and the courage to do it. Expanding his rule meant, among other things, driving the dubh gall back into the sea.
      Grimarr was not afraid of Lorcan – he was not afraid of any man – but he considered the Irishman a genuine adversary and a threat not to be taken lightly, and that was about the most respect Grimarr could give to anyone.
      With their ships pulled up on the beach, vulnerable as stranded whales, the Norsemen considered their options. If Lorcan attacked he would do so with overwhelming force; the most they could hope for in that circumstance was to get away, so they figured they had better be ready to do just that. They shoved Sea Rider back out into the water, made her fast to a tree ashore by a long walrus hide rope. They loaded all of the loot from the raid on Fearna aboard the one sound vessel. If the Irish attacked, the Northmen might still get away aboard that ship, carrying their riches with them.
      They spent two days on the beach heaving Eagle’s Wing over on her side and getting at the cracked plank as best they could. Two days, during which word of their presence must certainly have reached Lorcan. Repairs nearly done, and Fasti’s men eager to be gone, and with the Irish still nowhere to be seen, it was agreed that Sea Rider should get underway. No one would feel comfortable until the plunder from Fearna was safely within the walls of Vík-ló.
      Grimarr and the crew of Eagle’s Wing would be half a day behind at most, and they would meet again at the longphort. There were only a few men in the world whom Grimarr would allow to sail off with a fortune that was half his. Fasti was one of them.
      Sea Rider was nearly hull down to the north when they pushed Eagle’s Wing back into the sea and found that the repair they had made was not holding, the water still pouring in. Out she came once more, hove back on her side. An additional patch of wood, well slathered with tar, was clench-nailed over the cracked plank, and that at last seemed to hold. By then it was dark, and so the men pushed the ship into the shallow water and made it fast to the tree that had held Sea Rider and there they spent the night. They were underway at first light, following in Sea Rider ’s wake .
      That was two days past, and now the men of Eagle’s Wing were leaning hard into the oars, forcing every foot of headway out of the ship, desperate get around the headland and into the fight beyond. Because every man knew, as Grimarr did, that the battle involved Fasti Magnisson and his men.
      It had to be thus. The Irish were not seafarers, they did not engage in sea fights. Any fight on the water had to involve Northmen, and Sea Rider was the only ship Grimarr knew for certain was nearby. She should have been safely back to Vík-ló by now; why she was not Grimarr could not imagine; but that did not shake his belief that it was Fasti locked in that fight. Fasti, his friend. Fasti, who had Grimarr’s share of the Fearna treasure aboard his vessel.
     
     

Chapter Two
     
     
     
     
     
     
    I was