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  WRÆCCA

  BEOWULF - SWORD OF WODEN

  C. R. MAY

  Copyright

  This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’s imagination.

  It is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the writer’s prior consent, electronically or in any form of binding or cover other than the form in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Replication or distribution of any part is strictly prohibited without the written permission of the copyright holder.

  Copyright © 2013 C.R.May

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1499593627

  ISBN-13: 978-1499593624

  Contents

  Swedeland

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Monsters

  Afterword

  Characters

  Places/Locations

  About the Author

  Also by C.R.May

  Monsters

  Dayraven

  Fire & Steel

  Gods of War

  The Scathing

  Bloodaxe

  The Raven and the Cross

  Terror Gallicus

  Nemesis

  Sorrow Hill

  Eardwræcca/Wræcca

  An exile, one driven from his native country,

  a wanderer in foreign lands,

  wretch, fugitive, outcast, adventurer, stranger.

  1

  Hudda hauled the tiller of the Griffon into his chest as the ship neared the point at which it would tack once again. He knew that the eyes of dozens of helmsmen in the Geat fleet would be staring intently at the great stem post at the front of his ship, waiting for it to begin its swing to steerboard. That would be the signal for them to follow suit as they worked feverishly to maintain their station.

  He smiled as he imagined the pinched features of the following helmsmen as they braced their own mighty steer board, ready to shout instructions to the sweating oarsmen arrayed before them.

  More than a seafarer's pride was at stake for these men. Any collision between ships under oar, however slight, almost always resulted in serious injury and often loss of life as the shafts of the oars were driven back into the bodies of the rowers.

  The fleet had sailed from Geatwic the previous morning. Once clear of the estuary they had headed straight for deeper water and turned southward on the first leg of their journey to Swede Land under perfect conditions. A steady breeze had set in from the north-west and their spirits had risen as the ships of the fleet were swept speedily past the line of skerries which marked the friendly coast of Geatland to larboard.

  It had all been too good to be true.

  Later that morning the wind had dropped to a whisper and the crews had taken to the oars as Hudda had manoeuvred them en masse in search of fresher winds. Time was short if they were to surprise the Swedes on their arrival. A fleet of ships moves at the speed of the slowest vessel and several of the ‘knarrs’, the cargo ships at the centre of the formation, were painfully so. Fifty ships were difficult to hide at the best of times and they had yet to pass through the narrows between Dane Land and the coast of the Wuffing kingdom. Either of these could send a fast ship to warn the Swedes of their approach out of obligation or simply mischief. The result would be equally fatal for their mission and very likely many of them alike.

  Hudda cursed again. All his life he had dreamed of the opportunity to lead a fleet such as this and now they were all but becalmed.

  As much as he tried to push it to the back of his mind, the thought that they were part of a giant game being played for the gods' amusement kept forcing its way to the fore.

  It was unnerving.

  He wished that they would go and annoy the Francs or the Saxons for a change.

  Beowulf stood at the stem post of the Griffon and regarded the fleet as the ship made its turn. Pride welled within him at the sight of the fleet which had been entrusted to his care by his uncle, King Hythcyn, as a reward for his loyalty and fighting ability in the battles against the invading Swedes, both at the border and the greater clash at Sorrow Hill.

  Together with Ealdorman Wulfgar of Edet he had been responsible for checking the advance of a powerful Swedish force under the command of Ohthere and Onela, the sons of the Swedish King Ongentheow, intent on plundering the heart of the Geatish kingdom whilst the main Geat forces were abroad campaigning in Jute Land.

  Luckily the gods had smiled on the Geats and the fleet had not yet sailed, forcing the Swedes to retire after inflicting heavy losses on the desperate defenders. That fleet had been placed under the command of Beowulf and sent by the king to take retribution for the losses the Geats had suffered in both pride and manpower.

  The Griffon stood at the very point of a giant arrowhead aimed straight at the heart of the Swedish kingdom at Uppsala, the great 'black heart’ Hythcyn had called it. Arrayed in its wake was the largest fleet ever assembled by the Geat nation.

  Most of the ships were like the Griffon, seasoned veterans of the seas, but fully a score of them were new builds, constructed in the shipyards over the previous winter months as the invasion force took shape. Easily distinguished from the silver grey hulls of the older ships on account of their yellowish brown strakes, the new builds flanks were badly stained by the tannin which leached from the unseasoned oak used in their construction.

  Many of the sailors had been reluctant to serve aboard these vessels as the streaks resembled the tracks left by tears on the face of a grubby child and were regarded as a sign of bad luck by the ever superstitious seafarers, but the promise of abundant wealth and riches awaiting them on the other side of the Kattegat in Jute Land had finally persuaded them.

  Now they were to sail the ships all the way to Swede Land and many had begun to regret their pledges of service given the previous winter. Still, Beowulf mused, they seemed happier than the crews allotted one of the pine built ships. Easier to work and more abundant in the forests of Geatland, pine had been used to make up the required numbers of ships needed to transport the army the short distance to Jute Land and back. Beowulf had thought for a moment that Hudda was going to sob when he first saw them and Beowulf’s hearth warrior Gunnar, a former seaman, had described them as 'horrors!' in his own colourful way.

  Luckily Hudda had sympathised with the crews, to the extent that Beowulf had agreed to increase the share of booty for those who were willing to trust their lives to the pine ships. Now that they were being asked to take the ships all the way around to Uppsala they were in despair, to the great amusement of the other crews who had taken to calling the pine ships the ‘elk ships’ on account of the long faces of the crew members.

  Beowulf watched casually as the fleet made its turn.

  The ships nearer the right side of the formation raised their oars and let the light wind provide them with enough momentum to come about. Those on the opposite wing on the other hand had to bend their backs to the oars as they strove to keep the formation. The outer banks of oars in particular were rising and falling in double time as they swung the head of the ship onto the new course.

  Beowulf knew that it was backbreaking work from personal experience but he also knew that the men st
ationed on the outermost ships believed that they held the position of most honour amongst the fleet and were proud of the fact. Any enemy attack would hit them first so they would reason that they were the pick of the warriors chosen for the attack.

  He glanced over at the ship nearest to the Griffon. Newly painted black and buffed to a resinous sheen, the Raven certainly looked the part of its namesake.

  Soon they would be leaving the Geat coastline behind and the warships, the draccas, would mount their beast heads and the Raven would complete its appearance with the addition of a fabulous stem post in the shape of Woden’s bird.

  The helmsman of the Raven cried out and waved to Beowulf as the ship drew nearer. Exchanging a grin, he waved back at his irrepressible cousin, Heardred. Kept as a virtual hostage by the king for the good conduct of his father, Beowulf’s foster father, Hygelac, he was pleased that he had managed to persuade Hythcyn to allow his kinsman to accompany him on the raid.

  In addition to his invaluable experience gained in raiding from the sea in Francia and Britannia, Heardred was probably Beowulf’s favourite person on middle earth.

  “Something is up.” Hudda stood peering aft at one of the ‘elk ships’ which was attempting to overhaul them. A crew member had scaled the mast and was waving a red cloak to attract the attention of the fleet.

  “Is that the ship that we left behind?” Beowulf asked.

  One of the pine ships had developed a problem with its steering oar the previous day and had had to pull out of the formation while the crew made repairs. It was the sort of problem which could happen to any new ship, especially one which had been built and launched in such a hurry, but it had not prevented the unfortunate crew from suffering all sorts of good natured abuse from the ships of the fleet.

  Beowulf and Hudda had joined in the laughter while the crew had sat staring anywhere but outboard as their more fortunate colleagues had swept past accompanied by grins, catcalls, waves and the occasional bared arse. Now they were back and it looked as though they carried important news.

  “Back oars boys, let’s see what is so important.”

  As soon as the ship had arrived within hailing distance of those at the rear of the fleet they could see a man move to the bows and, cupping his hands to his mouth, pass a message to the steersman of the ship nearest to him. As they watched, a crewman ran the length of the ship and repeated the process to the next ship in the line. In calm conditions such as today it was the fastest way to deliver a short message over distance. In no time they watched as a man left the steering platform of the ship immediately to their rear and made his way to the bows opposite them.

  “Twelve to fifteen ships passed to the rear of us this morning heading east.”

  Beowulf frowned.

  “Just what we need, we are late already. What do you think?”

  “It could be Hygelac returning.” Hudda ventured.

  Hygelac, King Hythcyn's brother, had already sailed when news of the Swedish invasion had arrived at the Geat capital, Miklaborg. Known to be discontented with the new king’s rule and the deaths of his father King Hrethel and older brother Herebeald which had preceded it, Hygelac’s whereabouts had been a mystery for a month or more.

  “It could be, but then again it could be anyone. We have no idea who they are or why they are heading for our coast.”

  Beowulf watched as the Elk ship made its way steadily through the wallowing ranks of the now stationary fleet.

  “Let’s see if they can add anything to the information they have given us already before we decide what to do.” He added.

  As the ship drew to a halt level with the Griffon, Beowulf noticed that the oarsmen immediately doubled over their oars in exhaustion. They had clearly pushed themselves hard to bring the information to him and he made a note to show them his appreciation when an opportunity arose.

  Hudda moved closer and murmured as the steering platforms of the ships came together. “The helmsman’s name is Botulf, lord.” Beowulf nodded his thanks. Ecgtheow, Beowulf’s father, had always impressed on him the value of remembering the names of the men under his command. He had had so little time with them however that it had not been possible in this case. Not for the first time in his life he was grateful to have Hudda there to guide him.

  “Botulf, you are having an interesting day it would seem. Come aboard and let me quench your thirst.”

  Tiny, Hudda’s crewman, appeared with a long handled billhook and drew the sternposts of the two vessels together as Botulf leapt aboard the Griffon. Beowulf handed him a large cup of ale.

  “Any idea who these ships belong to?”

  “They were some way off lord, practically hull down and they were under oar power so there were no markings on the sails to identify them. The lead ship flew a flag though. It was definitely a white animal of some sort on a black background. We couldn’t risk going any closer in that tub,” he indicated the pine ship with a look of distaste, “in case the rudder fell off and left us stranded at their mercy. If I had to hazard a guess though,” he hesitated and pulled a face, “more than a guess, I would say that it was a white horse.”

  Hudda let out a groan at Beowulf’s elbow,

  “Jutes.”

  It was one of the easiest decisions that Beowulf had ever had to make. “Right forget the Swedes for now, we need to get back and help Wulfgar defend our own people before we harry another. Do you think that they saw you Botulf?”

  “I would think they must have lord,” he replied, “but they showed no sign of changing their course to intercept me. They may have assumed that I was just another knarr at that distance. As I said we were practically hull down. Even if they did catch sight of our shields lining the wales they would most likely assume that we had been left as a coastguard while the rest of the fleet was away. After all who would think of sending a pine built ship to war, lord?” he smiled.

  “Let’s see if we can replace it with a ship made from seasoned Jutish oak shall we?” Beowulf replied with a grin.

  “Back to your ship and fall in beside the Griffon. If we can bring these Jutes to bay I will give your ship the honour of leading the attack. Well done!”

  Botulf leapt back aboard his ship and pulled to one side.

  Beowulf passed to the opposite side of the steering platform and hailed the Raven.

  “Heardred, it seems that we may have a Jutish force of up to a score looking to attack either Geatwic or Miklaborg in our absence. Take the ships on our right wing and cut off their escape route. Spread out into a skirmish line and move towards the coast. I will lead the ships of the left wing plus Botulf’s ship directly at the estuary of the Geat River and work my way back towards you. Between us we must catch them.”

  Beowulf watched as his cousin’s face lit up at the news. He smiled to himself as he imagined Heardred’s thoughts.

  Only the second day at sea and we are already set for a fight!

  “I want the pine ships to protect the Knarrs while we are away. Can you make the necessary arrangements for me Hudda? Tell them to take them into the Skerries and we will pick them up again on our way back.” He slapped the big ship master on the shoulder and flashed him a smile. “Let’s get moving, I want this over as quickly as possible.”

  Beowulf leapt down from the steering platform onto the deck and addressed the crew.

  “I take it that you all got that so I won’t repeat it. I am afraid that it looks as though we are going to have to do some tough rowing if this wind does not pick up, but if we can catch these bastards then it looks as though we will be looting our friends the Jutes after all. If we keep to long steady strokes we should overhaul them sometime this afternoon and still have enough left in us to make short work of them. Let’s get going.”

  The crew exchanged expectant smiles and set about bringing the head of the Griffon around to her new course. The prospect of early action had clearly lifted the crew as it had Beowulf and Heardred.

  Like a handful of rune sticks, the Jutes
had thrown all of King Hythcyn’s plans into the air and they would have to see which pattern would be revealed when they finally fell back to Earth.

  That couldn’t be helped. That was a problem for another day.

  Beowulf watched as the Geat fleet slowly drew apart.

  Heardred waved as the Raven swung across their bows, a crew member already busily attaching the figurehead to the stem post. They may still be in friendly waters but they were sure that the spirits which inhabited their homeland would understand that they were going to fight on their behalf and they would need all the spiritual protection that the figurehead would provide. Soon the Raven was taking up her position at the centre of the line as the formation arrowed off to the north west.

  Beowulf spared the crews of the elk ships a moments sympathy as they began to slowly shepherd the knarrs to safety. The disappointment they had felt at hearing of their role in the upcoming drama had been obvious from their body language. It was unglamorous but necessary work and he resolved that he would make it up to the crews for their devotion to duty in some way.

  It would be several hours yet before they found the enemy ships and the men spent the time taking out their war gear and honing their weapons. In truth there was very little preparation to be done. All warriors took great pride in their equipment and appearance and any maintenance had already been completed before the items had been carefully wrapped in oil cloth and safely stowed in sea chests for the voyage to Swede Land only a few days previously. Mail byrnies had been polished with sand until they shimmered, helms burnished and leather battle coats waxed and oiled.