Wild Viking Princess by Anna Markland

Lord Jesus Christ that you have come.”
    He touched his fingertips to his forehead and made the Sign of the Crucifixion across his body. “We have prayed for your return. Gorm is an agent of the devil who takes everything and gives nothing in return.”
    He quickly surveyed Reider’s men crouched in the ditch. “You have many warriors to aid you, but be assured the villagers will also come to your aid. We may have only pitchforks and shovels, but we will fight for you. Your cause is righteous.”
    Reider put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “What is your name?”
    “Kristian, my prince.”
    Reider extended a hand. “Get off your knees, Kristian. I want you to scout the Great Hall and the dock. Find someone to help you if you wish. Come back with news of how many men we can expect, where Gorm is, anything you deem useful. Be careful. Do not give yourself away.”
    Kristian kissed Reider’s hand, nodded and scrambled away.
    Dagfinn’s man bristled. “How do you know you can trust him? He may sound the alarm.”
    Reider shook his head. “Did you not hear his name and his oath? He is a Christian. Gorm has never embraced that religion and indeed has always done his best to make life difficult for its adherents. Our friend will be glad to see the last of Gorm.”
    Time passed slowly as they waited for Kristian’s return. From the raucous noises that drifted to their ears from the village, it appeared drinking was already well underway in the main Ringhouse that housed the Great Hall. Reider gritted his teeth and stood to shake out the cramped muscles in his legs. Last time he had been in the Great Hall—
    Kristian slid into the ditch, panting hard, wild-eyed. “The Usurper is not in the Great Hall. Roar Knutsen and the rest of the survivors of the rout at Husembro are there, drinking heavily and wenching.”
    Reider held up his hand, a chill marching up his spine. “Rout at Husembro?”
    Kristian’s head bobbed up and down with excitement. “Gorm sent a raiding force to attack you in Husembro, but they were routed by a large force of men. Few returned, many of them wounded.”
    A large force of men? Who had been at Husembro? Had some other wandering band of marauders taken Husembro and defended it against Gorm’s men? He pressed his fingertips to his forehead. If anything had happened to Ragna—
    Kjartan’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What of the dock?”
    “Just a few men, but they too have imbibed a quantity of ale.”
    Reider gripped his axe. “And Margit? Did she and Gorm marry?”
    Kristian snorted and crossed himself again. “ Nej ! Gorm’s fair consort is not in the Great Hall either. The two are rarely together. She looks at him with murder in her eyes.”
    Reider put his hand on Kristian’s shoulder. “I owe you a great debt, Kristian. We will do all we can to restore justice to our homeland. Go now. Prepare your neighbours.”
    Kristian nodded and slipped away.
    Reider turned to Kjartan and Dagfinn’s man. “Pass the word. We will allow Kristian time to marshal the villagers. Watch for my signal to advance.”
    Reider stared at the moon, his thoughts still on Ragna. Was Màni watching over her as he made his way across the night sky? When the silver orb had moved what he judged to be a sufficient distance, Reider gave the signal and the invaders advanced through the village. Men armed with pitchforks, shovels, and scythes stole silently out of the small ringhouses and formed a rear guard.
    To a man, the army paused, weapons raised, for Dagfinn to invoke Thor’s blessings before he dispatched a contingent to the dock. The main body rushed to the Great Hall, weapons in hand, every man echoing Reider’s hoarse battle cry.
    “For Strand.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
     
    Fear gnawed at Gorm as he paced his chamber. Where was Reider? He had been confident that the raiding party he sent to Husembro would locate and kill his rival. Wherever his hated step-brother was, Gorm did not doubt he plotted