Chapter 12: Earl Sigfried

Ragnar led the pack with his strong shire, Ares, powering through the cobbled pathway with large strides as they made their way to the port.

The horse neighing in appreciation, being allowed to flex its muscles after a couple of days cooped up in the stables.

Ragnar grinned and kicked the midriff again, spurring Ares into a full gallop.

He turned around while still at full speed, the wind blowing his wild mane of blonde hair into his face, as he hoarsed to his father, "We need to find a spot to survey the situation. We don't know how many of our men remain down there."

Harald nodded, "The men who guard the port are most likely overrun by now. The rest of them should be on their way from the castle now, and they'll catch up to us. Let's stop up there on the hill. It should give us a good vantage point of the beach.

The trio slowed to a trot and followed Ragnar up the hill as the view of the port opened up.

The entire port covered about half the beach, consisting of a wooden fort with guards currently being smothered by Danes and a dock littered with around 20 boats.

Ragnar gulped; the sight of 1000 massive Danes striding onto the beach with fur coats, axes, shields and leather armor would make any man question their sanity.

Thorkell, on the other hand, was more eager and hot-blooded. He swivelled on his feet and approached his father before sneering in disdain at the Danes on the beach. "Send us, father. These bastard Danes will stand no chance against our might. Let Thor strike them down where they stand!" He spat on the ground in anger.

Harald looked at Thorkell for a second, and a grim smile broke out before he vehemently struck Thorkell in the face.

Disappointed with Thorkell's outburst, Marshal Harald started to circle him before gathering himself, "Calm down, boy! You will not last a second once I'm gone."

He dragged Thorkell to the edge of the hill and pointed to the vast amount of Danes littering the beach, starting to set up camp.

"Look at that, how many men do you think that is? 1000? What do you think the two of you will do besides get slaughtered! Do you think I groomed the two of you for 18 years to get killed in your first skirmish?"

He turned to Thorkell and came up close to him, glaring at him. Demanding submission.

Thorkell shivered in fear. Those green eyes before him felt like they were boring into his soul. He understood his impatience was an error and nodded while backing down.

Marshal Harald controlled the rising anger before sighing. "Right, now that we've got that cleared up, what do you propose, my boy Ragnar? You've been awfully quiet this entire time."

Ragnar looked between the scar-faced Thorkell and Marshal Harald and raised his arms wide in triumph. "I have a simple plan that will give us victory."

"Hoh", Marshal Harald looked on at his son in appreciation. Seemed to him like at least one of his sons had retained his smarts.

"Well, what is this plan of yours." Thorkell shrivelled his lip in disgust, his cheek still burning in pain.

——————

Among the Danish tents breaking out across the beach, one stood out. Located at the center of the entire camp, a large 20-foot by 20-foot encampment stuck out like a sore thumb, made of embroidered linen material with an opulent carpet rolled out in front of it. Tucked away from all the bustling of the blacksmiths was the Earl Sigfried's tent.

A young man with cropped red hair and an eye patch burst through the tent.

"My Lord, we have news from our front men!" He immediately kneeled, cowering in front of the Earl.

Earl Sigfried turned around to look at his scrawny little slave, Finan. A sneer broke out on his face as he approached the boy and kicked him savagely in the ribs.

"Well?! Out with it, boy, before I cut out your tongue." He spat on the ground

Their troops had been ravaged out at sea by Thor. The Earl had intended to cross the ocean back to their homelands in Scandanavia, but the eternal storms and loss of boats had made the Earl furious at his gods. Large waves had wrecked over half his boats, in the process losing over a thousand men on their return back to land.

Worn out and hungry, his men were eager to get raiding again to resupply.

The young boy whimpered but held his tongue. The dull pain in his left eye was a cold reminder of what would happen if he talked back to his Lord.

"My Lord, three men were spotted atop the hill facing the beach. They seem content with holding their position. I guess that they are waiting for reinforcements."

The Lord sneered in anger. "Did I ask for your opinion, Finan? Don't utter the obvious again, or I'll take this skewer and burn your other eye out!"

Earl Sigfried roared before turning around and flipping the table onto the ground. Plates of food spilt onto the floor while the Lord paced in anxiousness. "If we had our full force, I would have pushed the encounter and gone up the hill to meet them. God knows how many troops they have, but surely my two thousand men would have been enough."

"All we can do now is fortify this camp and hope that they come out to negotiate. What we need are food and money. Then I'd consider leaving this place in peace. In the meantime, Finan, go to Erika and let her know that we need to send out a party at once to figure out the number of men this town has. Go now! Leave me."

Finan spun around, eager to leave the tent before the Earl lashed out at him to give Erika the news. He preferred the exotic shield maiden's company anyway.

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