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Very informative post about those graphics, @Chac1, something I was originally meaning to ask you about. I like the Playground app. If I ever decide to try another AAR I'd take a serious look at using it.
Thanks for reading @Lord Durham . I know you have encouraged me to write something about graphics for the SolAARium and I'm on the hook for that. Hope to get something ready for next month. However, this is a bit of a preface, inspired by the good question from @Rensslaer . Plenty of other projects to juggle right now, including the latest chapter coming soon.
Thanks for reading @Lord Durham . I know you have encouraged me to write something about graphics for the SolAARium and I'm on the hook for that. Hope to get something ready for next month. However, this is a bit of a preface, inspired by the good question from @Rensslaer . Plenty of other projects to juggle right now, including the latest chapter coming soon.
Yes, I understand there is no obligation. However, when I say I'll work on something, I like to keep those promises. Depending upon work-life issues, I hope to get to it sometime in the next month or so. As you know, I have quotas to meet.
Chapter XIV The Mid-day Gathering
(King Þorolfr’s Partial Reign 790)
Besides this new track, the full AAR soundtrack can be found here.
(King Þorolfr meets with Chief Tryggve “The Moaner” Flod of Burgundaholmr, the king’s chief advisor, and Jarl Alfr “Irongrip” af Vendel of Svíþjóð in the king’s private meeting room in Sjælland, as imagined by Playground AI and the Stable Diffusion XL image generator.)
>>> WARNING: This post includes coarse adult language. Please be advised before reading further. <<<
After the watershed council meeting where the prince and the godi were dismissed, King Þorolfr felt like having a mid-day meal, as was sometimes his custom. He remembered that Gyrið, the royal consort, had reminded him that drinking less did not mean eating more, but the king could only combat a few of his cravings at a time. Besides, he felt like he had a reason to celebrate a political victory.
He invited Jarl Alfr “Irongrip” af Vendel to stay after the council session and they shared a meal together in the king’s private meeting room. The main course was one of the king’s favorites, chieftain’s soup, which consisted of a stock made with hearty chunks of pork and lamb, combined with beans, parsnips, and mushrooms. The servants had also brought a plate of honey-glazed sausages, and fresh walnut bread. The jarl drank ale while the king stuck to water.
“So you aren’t drinking ale or your favorite wines at all these days?” Alfr queried.
“At the blót you and Tryggve gave me good advice,” the king noted while soaking up some of the soup with his bread. “It’s not just the gods I have to thank for the recent turn of events. You both have proved to be excellent and trusted advisors. You have my gratitude. But to answer your question, I am still drinking all the favorites, just not as much as I was.”
“Well, that is good, but when the business of the day is done, a fine ale is a good solution.”
Alfr said this and took his own advice and sipped down some beer.
“So your business is done at mid-day?”
“My business is never done.”
Alfr chuckled.
“So I drink all the time, but usually not before mid-day, unless it is a very special occasion.”
“And what business do we have today that we didn’t already discuss at the council session?”
“Well, that is what I wanted to bring up.”
Alfr picked up a sausage with his hand and bit into it. He talked while he chewed.
“I have to congratulate you on the great bluff you pulled on Prince Magni and the godi. They believed we had all the proof of their plotting. Luckily, we won’t ever have to put anything before a lawspeaker.”
“Well, you had most of the details.”
The king raised his tankard of water and sipped.
“We just creatively filled in the gaps. And how is your man who was stabbed? Will he pull through?”
“It’s still all nip and tuck.”
Alfr shook his head.
“I hope the young man lives but it could go either way. He’s still in Hleiðra. Chief Knut warned me to leave him be there and let him recover. The man’s still too weak to travel. Not sure I trust him in Godi Styrbjörn’s village but I left a few good people to look after him.”
“And how is my untrustworthy court physician, Knut?”
“No change in his disposition that I’ve heard since the blót, but we will see. With the changes in the council, maybe he too will come around and renounce his plotting.”
“There’s no one in the kingdom who has a better knowledge of plants, potions, and poultices than Knut, except for perhaps, Godi Styrbjörn. But making that switch would be impossible now. With my tutelage of Emund and his coming of age, it became obvious he could replace Magni, but we don’t have any other options for Knut.”
“You may have to craft a deal for him like the one you put together for Emund.”
“Aye, perhaps. I will think on that. Cut too many deals though and people with learn of that weakness and there will be a line with their hands out.”
“Well, it is all prioritization and moderation. The same solution doesn’t work with everyone.”
“And what about that bitch, Þordis Stafr? I’m not even sure I saw her at the blót.”
“My people told me she kept a low profile. As you know, we were juggling a lot of other issues.”
Alfr shrugged.
“We can only handle so much. I heard that after the weather warmed for a few days, she left early. That’s more than 600 miles back, so maybe she wanted to get an early start.”
“Still, it is rude to leave such a momentous event early.”
“Like so many of our younger leaders, Chieftess Þordis needs to learn about her true place in the world and to honor the old traditions.”
“And I thought you weren’t a religious man.”
The king smiled.
“Maybe my devotion to the gods is rubbing off on you.”
“Adhering to the old ways and revering our culture doesn’t mean I have to be a lover of the godar and go to the temple every week. I respect your zealous ways but they are not for me.”
“How can I argue with the hero of the blót?”
The king laughed a bit while biting off some bread. He chewed and then continued through a partial mouthful:
“That woman-child Þordis wants independence, and she’s certainly acting a bit too independent.”
“Well, if I catch any of her spies mucking about you will be the first to know, Þorolfr. Moving farther north, I’m sure Chief Ingjald in Lapland will be pleased we finally took his advice regarding Styrbjörn.”
“I’m not sure, after almost two years of waiting.”
The king nodded, and ate as he spoke.
“But we kept that tucked in our cloak pocket for just the right time. And they do measure time differently in Lapland. But I remember you mentioning there was something more to discuss regarding Ingjald.”
“Yes, you should know even though he wasn’t at the blót and sent his regrets that his wife was spying there.”
The king nodded, and continued digging into his meal.
“And she teamed up with the queen’s spy, Borkvard.”
“I’m not sure what to make of that or Borkvard.”
The king looked sourly at Alfr and stopped eating for a moment.
“I don’t think I should trust him but he is so close to the queen.”
“Well, I wouldn’t trust him, that’s for certain. But he certainly is the queen’s man. Although I find it odd, he was the spy we chased off the roof that night in Hleiðra.”
“Don’t remind me of that night.”
The king said this and waved his hand like someone had farted.
“What a disaster that was. And you say he was on the roof of the house?”
Alfr nodded
“I’m glad you told me but what was he doing on the roof and why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
The king asked this with an arched eyebrow.
“Frankly, I don’t know what he was doing on the roof. But that was the second time we caught him spying on you at the blót. You might remember I caught him earlier spying on you from the forest.”
The king nodded.
“And I’m so glad he didn’t share what he heard because today’s council session might have gone differently.”
“Who knows what he heard either night. But one reason he might not have informed anyone is I have him locked up in your jail.”
“Well, the queen won’t like that will she?”
The king laughed, and Alfr chuckled a bit with him.
(Borkvard the Spy in detention in Sjælland as imagined by Playground AI and the Stable Diffusion XL image generator.)
“She won’t find out for a while.”
Alfr finished snickering.
“She’s hundreds of miles away now, so that won’t be an issue for either of us. Anyway, Borkvard won’t talk. We haven’t tortured him but we did rough him up a little. He’s not talking. All we know is he was in league with Chief Ingjald and his wife and they are all very interested in you.”
“Well, don’t leave any permanent marks or I’ll hear about it from the queen.”
The king said this and bit into a sausage.
“Keep him for another few days but not too long or I’ll be hearing from some frantic messenger sent all the way from Helsingland.”
“Alright, Borkvard can enjoy the jail’s gruel for a few more days. But we do need to find out what Borkvard is doing with that trouble-maker Ingjald. However, I have many other priorities.”
The jarl shook his head.
“How about dessert? Do you want dessert? That’s my priority right now.”
The king said this with a bit of excitement as he finished chewing up the last sausage.
“I can’t. I’m stuffed. I’m not accustomed to eating mid-day. So should I hold off talking about Kraka? Will she spoil your dessert?”
“Don’t worry. I’m in a good mood.”
Then the king got up from the table and opened the door of his private meeting room. He had asked the guards and servants to stay down the hall so they could not overhear his session with the spymaster. Now, the king called down to them and asked for them to bring dessert.
“Tell me about Kraka.”
The king asked this as he sat back down at the table.
“Maybe we’ll get through with her before the dessert comes and that would be perfect.”
“Well, as I told you briefly before the meeting, there is nothing I’ve turned up firmly connecting Prince Magni to the assassination plot. I wish I could, but it isn’t there. But I do think Kraka is an expert at intermingling truth with lies. She could be covering for her son and taking more of the blame. It is difficult to suss out. I’m not done investigating that yet. She did confirm Magni’s other plot, and that did help us today. Again, I’m glad there is no lawspeaker because we’d never get Kraka to talk the way I got her to talk in front of witnesses. I’m sure of that.”
“Well, if new facts emerge later about Magni, then we can take action.”
The king said this while stretching a bit and sitting back on the bench on his side of the table.
“For now, it seems he was willing to share his plot with his mother, but she merely used his plot to help advance her own, without telling him.”
“No honor among plotters, I suppose, but you’d expect more from a mother.”
“Well, she continues to protect him.”
Alfr said this and nodded.
“I’m certain of that. We aren’t getting the full truth out of her.”
“Then torture her.”
The king said this and waved his hand as if waving away a bad smell.
“I don’t care. She’s going to the pit anyway. She won’t last there. So drain as much information as you can out of her before that point.”
“In this case…”
Alfr gave the king a serious look as he continued:
“I think we are already at that point. Torture won’t get us anywhere else and would just be excessive.”
“Alright. I’m going to trust your instincts. You have more than proven that your instincts are right. I would not be alive without those highly tuned instincts. But I do wonder if the pit is punishment enough for trying to kill me. Trying to kill the king.”
“And what have I cautioned you about vengeance?”
Alfr asked this and gave the king a hard stare.
“I knew that lecture was lurking about.”
The king replied and gave a wry smile.
“We’ll do it your way and I promise not to second guess later.”
“I want to share one tidbit with you from my meeting with Kraka, and it certainly surprised me.”
Just then there was a knock at the door and four servants entered to clear the table of the mid-day meal and set down new bowls along with a pot with a barley and hazelnut porridge topped with whipped cream. A servant ladled out a bowl for the king, but Alfr waved her away.
“None for me, please.”
“Just take a spoon and try some.”
Alfr dipped his spoon into the pot of the dessert and gave it a taste.
“Yes, quite good, my liege, but as I said, I am filled.”
“Very good. Then more for me.”
The king smiled, as the servants departed.
“As I was saying, Kraka shared with me that she’s the one that pushed Magni into the holmgang.”
At that news, the king spit out some of the whipped cream and choked a bit.
He asked this as he tried to finish swallowing what was in his mouth.
“Amazing. This woman has tried to kill me twice. We will make sure she doesn’t get a third chance.”
“This might let you understand the prince a bit more.”
“Oh, I understand him. He’s an angry young man who feels cheated. He’s dangerous and we will continue to watch my rival for what tricks he might throw our way next. I will be vigilant around him, don’t have any doubts.”
Pride brimmed through the king’s voice as he said this.
“That wasn’t my point. I know you will be vigilant, but just understand your half-brother has been victimized here too.”
“Don’t go soft on me, jarl.”
The king growled a bit.
“We’ve been lenient enough with the prince as it is.”
“So you say, but I’ve made my point. I must tell you I have my doubts after my chat with Kraka that she and her husband were the grand masterminds that you thought. But further checking is needed. And I will have to travel out of the country to get that information.”
“So you agree that Kraka and Ulfr could have murdered my father?”
The king asked this with some enthusiasm.
“I don’t think it is likely, but I can’t rule it out. Yet. Some leads need to be checked, and those leads may send us to the real answer one way or another.”
Alfr didn’t want to share all of the information Kraka had given him about the murder of the king’s father, partially because he didn’t want to raise the king’s expectations. But also, because, until he had all the facts, Alfr wasn’t sure how the king would react, and he didn’t want him making rash decisions based upon his need for revenge.
“So where are you going? Back to Miklagard? Or what is that other name they use for that city?”
“They call it Constantinople. I hope not that far, but as you have instructed, I need to chase the leads where they take me.”
“So you aren’t going to tell me?”
“No. I don’t want you to work yourself up with worries and concerns. I think by now you know I have my ways and so I will tell you once I return. But for now, my travel plans will have to stay secret. However, I wanted you to know that I won’t be returning to watch over Chief Knut in Rygjafylki anytime soon. The worthless ice there tore up my back so I won’t be missing it a bit.”
“But your people will continue to watch Knut, right?”
Alfr nodded affirmatively.
“I hope you have more confidence in my ears and eyes around the kingdom now that we came through for you at the blót.”
“No doubt, jarl.”
The king shook his head in agreement.
“Your spy network has proved its true worth.”
“And before I travel out of the country, I also need to stop at the front in Skara and see that the post-thaw offensive starts right.”
“I don’t know why you don’t quit that war and make peace with the Geats.”
Alfr said this and shook his head from side to side. He spooned some of the dessert in his mouth while Alfr gave him a foul look.
“What has it been now? Two years?”
“Yes, I know you told me they were tough bastards and you were right I under-estimated them.”
“I have never understood about Geats fighting Geats. And you have not learned yet to honor your foes. This war has whittled your troops down, no doubt.”
“Please don’t remind me.”
Alfr shook his head negatively.
“But that’s why I need to spend some time with my commanders. I am spread all over Denmark and as I have often told you, sometimes I am spread too thin.”
“Yes, I heard they raided your holding in Vestmannaland. I was sorry to hear that.”
(Shrouded by fog, Geatish raiders from Västergötland prepare to raid Vestmannaland, the capital province of Svíþjóð, as imagined by the DALL·E image generator provided via Bing and Microsoft’s Designer digital editor.)
The king didn’t share all he knew about Alfr’s war, because he didn’t want to rub in the pain of the losses his spymaster’s troops had suffered. What the king didn’t mention was how Alfr’s enemies had seized one of his provinces, Vermaland, in the war, and forced Chief Faste Styr to flee. Faste had returned to his haunts in Sjælland, where he was recruiting men to fight for Alfr in Skara. After the thaw, Faste also planned a trip around the Baltic region to recruit heroes and mercenaries to rally to Alfr’s cause. The king had heard this firsthand from Faste, the Steward of Svíþjóð and one of Jarl Alfr’s advisors. The king and Faste had shared drinks one night before the blót at one of the capital’s best alehouses.
“I see my friend Jarl Sigurd has kept you up to date on my failures.”
Alfr said this as he pursed his lips and paused for a moment.
“I was lucky my own longhouse wasn’t burned when I was away. But that is neither here nor there. I have captured the main holding in Skara and we are going to get King Bersi’s regent to surrender this year. I know it.”
“Actually, Chief Faste gave me the update on the war, but we can certainly change the subject.”
“Oh, Faste, he certainly knows his way around the capital, doesn’t he?”
Alfr asked this and shook his head.
“I wish the man was as good at recruiting warriors as he was at finding good alehouses. Sometimes I think I keep him as an advisor just because of his great knowledge of beer.”
At that, Alfr gulped down a few mouthfuls of his own beer.
“Faste is a good friend to have.”
The king said this just as there was a knock at the door.
“Who is interrupting our meeting?”
The king called out with some annoyance in his voice.
“The guards said you might have some extra dessert in there,” came the voice of Chief Tryggve “the Moaner” Flod through the door.
“Tryggve!”
The king jumped up excitedly.
“Yes, come in and help us finish this fine porridge and cream.”
Tryggve opened the door and came trundling into the king’s meeting room. He was holding something under his cloak.
“Where’s the dessert?”
“I’ll get a bowl for you.”
The king turned immediately and began scooping out porridge and cream for his friend into the bowl originally meant for Alfr.
“But you’ll need to use Alfr’s spoon.”
“Or I can just lap it right out of the bowl, like a dog.”
Tryggve laughed heartily.
“What’s under your cloak, skald?”
Just then, a small puppy poked its head out from where it was squirming, trying to escape Tryggve’s grasp inside the man’s cloak.
“Well, that’s why I was thinking about dogs!”
Tryggve chuckled.
“I’ve brought this puppy with me.”
Tryggve took the puppy by the nape of its neck and set it down on the table. It was mostly a white dog with large black splotches on its fur for markings. It shook its tail and immediately ran over to the bowl the king had prepared and started lapping up the cream. The king shooed the pup away from the bowl and handed the bowl to Tryggve.
“Looks like you’ll have had this pre-tasted by your dog, Tryggve.”
The king laughed as he passed the bowl to his chief advisor.
“It’s no matter. If the dessert is good enough, who cares if a puppy had some first.”
Tryggve accepted the bowl with a nod.
Meanwhile, the pup had wandered over the tabletop to sniff at Jarl Alfr who was scratching behind the pup’s ears.
“Besides, that’s not my dog. It’s your dog, Þorolfr.”
“What do you mean? All the dogs that I have for hunting are kept by the kennel master.”
“No, this is your dog.”
Tryggve said this while he scooped up the dog and handed him to the king who accepted the puppy warily. He held the pup and petted it nonetheless, holding him in the palm of his hand.
(The puppy that Chief Tryggve “The Moaner” Flod of Burgundaholmr gave to King Þorolfr as imagined by the DALL·E image generator provided via Bing.)
“My son, Arngrimr, brought him in the ship today, when he came to pick up my family at the quay. One of our finest hunting dogs in Burgundaholmr had given birth before the blót, and I told Arngrimr that I wanted to give you the best pup in the litter once they were weaned.
“Well, that is an unexpected gift, and I thank you very much, my friend.”
He put the puppy back down on the table. The pup made a beeline for the king’s bowl and started to lap at the cream. The king didn’t notice as he walked over to Tryggve and gave the rotund man a big bear hug. Alfr watched the puppy eating what was left of the king’s dessert and smiled.
When the king turned around to return to the table, he shook his head. He picked the dog up by the nape of its neck and the dog yelped a bit. Then the king set the dog gently down on the floor.
“Someone is going to have to help me train that pup. I’m not sure I have time for that.”
The king said this and nodded his head again.
The dog scooted over to the king’s small bearskin prayer rug before his statue of Odin, and he began to chew the edges of the rug and wrestle around with it.
“I’m sure you have many people who can help. Look, your new dog has already caught a bear.”
All three men laughed lightly at the spymaster’s joke.
“You should take a hand in the training. That’s what will bond the dog to you and he’ll be your most loyal servant, no doubt.”
Tryggve then took the bowl of dessert and tipped it up into his mouth, drinking from the rim. He slurped noisily and when the bowl tipped down there was a plentiful amount of cream stuck in his long bushy beard.
“Are we done discussing Skara? We were discussing my war when you came in Tryggve.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences.”
“One would think my friends would be offering more support. I will tell you we are winning, but I agree it has been painful.”
“Maybe you will let me come to see some battles and sieges and I can write a poem about it.”
“Let me see what the post-thaw offensive yields first.”
Alfr wasn’t sure he wanted the Court Skald of Denmark recording anything about his war efforts that had taken so many unexpectedly nasty turns.
“Yes, I think we are done catching up on all topics.”
The king said this and he eyed the dessert that the puppy had eaten. There wasn’t much left. The king decided instead to eat from what was left in the serving pot. He put his bowl on the floor for the puppy.
“I have nothing to add and I am done discussing Skara.”
“What will you name the pup?”
“Tryggve, I appreciate the gift, but I have no idea. I’m still surprised.”
“What will you use the dog for? Hunting? Chasing household pests? Working with farm animals?”
“Well, maybe all of those.”
“Will you really be involved in all those?”
“Well, then hunting, certainly.”
“Then call it ‘Veiði-hundr.’ Give it a name that matches its function.”
“Shouldn’t the king’s dog have a regal name? Something grander? Maybe name it after a god?”
“That would be sacrilegious.”
The king said this with a serious tone in his voice.
“Regal and grand is for your poems. Simple is best when calling and training a dog.”
“But that name is a little long.”
“Then you name it. You’re the skald.”
“No, I like Veiði-hundr. That has a nice lilt on the lips. As the jarl advises, simple is best. The hero of the blót gets the honor of naming my dog, and, Tryggve, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t thank him too much yet. The dog just took a shit on your rug.”
“He’s a puppy.”
Tryggve shrugged.
“What are you going to do?”
“Rub his nose in it for starters.”
“I have trained many dogs and there are other methods.”
“Alright, I will get some servants in here to clean this up. And I think my consort Gyrið is going to have to help me train this puppy.”
“Just one more task for the amazing Gyrið.”
Tryggve said this with a sigh.
The men all looked at each other and then they all started laughing. All three were caught up in the merriment of the moment. They all recognized they needed something like a puppy to help them lighten the mood as they celebrated their latest set of political victories. The king escorted his two most trusted advisors out of his private meeting room, carefully stepping around the puppy’s mess. They were done with the heavy political lifting for now.
“Tryggve, do you want to hit an alehouse before you go back to Burgundaholmr?”
Alfr asked this with some hopes, as they parted ways with the king.
Despite the fact that his wife and family were awaiting his return, Tryggve agreed. He ordered a servant to head down to the quay and relay the message that they would be spending one more night in the capital.
“What’s one more night in Sjælland?”
(The images included in this chapter are all from accounts linked to @Chac1 where he holds the copyright. They are primarily from Playground AI, but some are from Bing, including the Lost Seasons of the Danes logo. In addition, the LunaPic image editor was used to alter some images.)
It seems that Denmark still has a lot of plotters...
Why did Kraka think it was a good idea for Magni to challenge Þorolfr to a holmgang? I don't think anyone expected Magni to win...
How extensive is Alfr's spy network? Does he actually have agents in the Queen of Cities? Does he have agents in Germany and the Balkans as well?
You'd expect Alfr's intrigue skills to be useful in a war since they can't get him information about his opponents's plans... is he just too distracted by his job as Spymaster of Denmark?
Great Episode! Thank you for sharing. What instruments does Skald use? Always like seeing pets (and their health gift to you). How many known plots/factions are there?
Thanks for your ongoing support @jak7139 , @HistoryDude and @Midnite Duke . Thanks also to the semi-silent and silent readers, as I know of a few who are out there. Lots of questions and points to cover so let's dive in....
Thanks for the compliment, @Midnite Duke .
Can't take any credit for the great playing of SKÁLD though. From what I can see and hear they play traditional instruments: various drums and percussion instruments along with a tagelharpa and a Viking lyre. One of the reasons I like them is the use of traditional instruments. Those who may have paid attention to the details of the musicians in the blót may remember some of these instruments were mentioned in those chapters too. My research on Norse music says they are very authentic. Actually much of the soundtrack is assembled with authenticity in mind.
Yes, this accurately portrays a gift from Tryggve after the blót. Still trying to figure out ways to get this pup in and out of the plot. The king could use those benefits given his various vices.
(Yes, you've been on your good behavior lately, King Þorolfr. No doubt. But current performance is no guarantee for future success.)
How extensive is Alfr's spy network? Does he actually have agents in the Queen of Cities? Does he have agents in Germany and the Balkans as well?
You'd expect Alfr's intrigue skills to be useful in a war since they can't get him information about his opponents's plans... is he just too distracted by his job as Spymaster of Denmark?
Although there are intentions to move down a few other paths, espionage will remain one of the central themes, no doubt. Currently, there are two factions formed against the king and both are mentioned at least in passing in this chapter. Court physician Knut Hammer of Rygjafylki wants to gather others to pressure the king to change laws and lessen his overall powers. Meanwhile Chieftess Þordis of Medelpad wants independence from Denmark. Eventually, chapters will emerge centered on both of them but other espionage issues will confront the king and his spymaster a bit sooner.
Jarl Alfr is far from infallible. As alluded to here, his war is not going as planned. Definitely, he's distracted by his job as spymaster. If he were concentrating just on his war for Skara, @HistoryDude , he might have wrapped it up by now. His intelligence issues in that war will figure into the coming chapters, no doubt. We will also hear a bit more about his spies (but not much, this is espionage after all) in Saxony and a few other border areas. No agents in the Balkans (that I know about!) or Miklagard. However, there are definitely trade contacts in the Queen of Cities and they are often useful to spies. I have been toying with the idea of Alfr's adventures in Miklagard which I intentionally skipped over back around Chapter X. I haven't written those adventures yet, but I have hinted around about them. I am contemplating what to do with them, currently.
As for Borkvard @jak7139 , he will certainly tell the queen himself that Alfr threw him into jail. No love lost between Jarl Alfr and the queen.
Over-confidence? Hubris? I can't explain her thinking entirely, but she believes in a direct route to glory. Unsure we will get a good answer from her. As Jarl Alfr has already discerned, she doesn't always think her plots through to see the potential flaws. That's why she ended up where she is now.
Hopefully, the third time is not the charm in this case.
I don't like Alfr's phrasing here. It sets him up to have something horrible happen.
And the same idea here. Something horrible is about to happen I think.
Yes, I am a firm believer that you need a chapter like this to establish that elusive warm fuzzy feeling of happiness or joy after a victory. Given that this is CKII, there is an implied guarantee that something else lurks in the future. I can see the thermostat settings for this AAR are just where they need to be. Thanks for confirming that, Jak.
(Thanks for the assist, Jarl Alfr. No doubt, we'll be seeing more of you soon.)
Yes, I am a firm believer that you need a chapter like this to establish that elusive warm fuzzy feeling of happiness or joy after a victory. Given that this is CKII, there is an implied guarantee that something else lurks in the future. I can see the thermostat settings for this AAR are just where they need to be.
You needed a post like this to calm things down, provide a bit of recap and lay the foundation for what's to come. Now, about that thermostat setting...
Weeks later, the king was leading a column of warriors in Svíþjóð, marching to Finland for their planned invasion, when news came to the king’s encampment that Jarl Alfr had arrived to see him. Soon the jarl was visiting with King Þorolfr in the king’s tent as evening approached.
“I did not expect to see you for many months as our campaigns and plans were carrying us in different directions,” King Þorolfr nodded. “Would you like something to drink? To eat?”
“I have an apple in my pocket,” Jarl Alfr replied, and took out a mealy old apple, showing it to the king.
“Very good, so I’ll call for some apple wine then.”
The king said this and got up.
“No bother.”
Alfr waved at him.
“I don’t drink on an empty stomach.”
Alfr took a bite out of the apple, its pulpy juices squirting on his beard.
“Alright.”
The king nodded but went to the tent’s flap nevertheless. He instructed the guards to have someone bring him some mulled apple wine, as the temperatures at the end of March were still brisk.
“But I’ve had my dinner and soon enough you won’t have an empty stomach.”
The king said this as he returned and sat, his puppy nuzzling against him.
“Before the wine gets here, let me quickly tell you of my bad news. Seems we have not quelled the plotters. Someone is still trying to hire killers to help in plots to have you murdered.”
Find out the details of what Jarl Alfr has discovered in the next chapter of Lost Seasons of the Danes....
Author’s Note: The king appears here in the way he has appeared for quite some time in this AAR but a few readers have urged me to age the king up (and a few other characters as well) as his image is now a bit young for someone in their mid-30s. The next installment will have the new images, so don’t be alarmed. This is always the issue when characters age in a graphic novel series! Now that the blót is over and many of those plot-lines are tied up for the moment, this is also a good time to update the images as we move into new stories.
( And now, as is our custom, sharing the suggested soundtrack for Chapter XIV below: “Flúga” by SKÁLD.)
(Lost Seasons of the Danes will return in about two weeks.)
I went down the SKÁLD rabbit hole at rabbit hole central (Wikipedia). They are a French group playing Nordic folk. People please be good and quit trying to kill the king, while he is leaving more apple wine for you and me. (Has any of us (readers of AAR) have drank apple wine? Thanks and anxiously but patiently waiting the full episode.
I went down the SKÁLD rabbit hole at rabbit hole central (Wikipedia). They are a French group playing Nordic folk. People please be good and quit trying to kill the king, while he is leaving more apple wine for you and me. (Has any of us (readers of AAR) have drank apple wine? Thanks and anxiously but patiently waiting the full episode.
Well, thanks for going down that rabbit hole, @Midnite Duke . Had no idea they were French. Just know they have beautiful voices and make interesting music. Have noticed as I explore modern Norse music that various European artists have an interest in this genre; they don't all seem to be Nordic. Thanks for the research!
As for apple wine (which my research says was likely very low in alcohol content, ranging between two and five percent) those of a certain age from the U.S. may remember Boone's Farm. If I remember correctly, that brand started as apple-flavored wine, then became apple wine due to costs. In the 1990s, for various reasons, it became a malted beverage so it really is no longer a wine. Anyway, that brand was very, very sweet. And supposedly still is. Yes, I must confess, I had some long ago. My tastes are different now.
Maybe if the king would share more of his apple wine there wouldn't be so many plotters?
(A fine idea, King Þorolfr, just don't go overboard. Even that low-alcohol stuff will give you a hangover if you don't watch out.)
I agree with many of the comments made so far on the last chapter: it was indeed welcome having some fuzzy-warm-wholesome puppy time. But all along I was half thinking the lunch would be poisoned or some such. It all turned out nicely and then … that very last line!
I don't like Alfr's phrasing here. It sets him up to have something horrible happen.
And the same idea here. Something horrible is about to happen I think.
Definitely agree. Next he will show the buddy next to him a picture of the girl he’s gonna marry after the D-Day landing and the war is done, and buy a little farm somewhere in the peaceful mid-west! A sure tempting of fate, to be followed by one or other of them being set upon by thugs or assassins as they go about their council roles! We shall of course see. It could be a red herring.
A sure tempting of fate, to be followed by one or other of them being set upon by thugs or assassins as they go about their council roles! We shall of course see. It could be a red herring.
As a firm believer in GI's showing pictures of their girlfriends before they go off to war, and other such foreshadowing you can certainly take it the way others have in this thread. But I am also a believer in red herrings. So who knows how it will all end up (besides me & @HistoryDude )?
One point I can guarantee: the thugs await in a variety of forms in the coming chapters.
Chapter XV Irmgard’s Plot
(King Þorolfr’s Partial Reign 790)
Besides this new track, the full AAR soundtrack can be found here.
Author's Note: Please be aware, beginning with this post, some of the characters will begin to receive new avatars so they are closer in age to to their in-game age. Apologies for any confusion this may cause the reader.
(Chieftess Irmgard of Åland, the former queen of Denmark, as imagined by the DALL·E image generator provided via Bing, with additional changes made via Microsoft’s digital editor, Designer.)
>>> WARNING: This post includes coarse adult language. Please be advised before reading further. <<<
For Jarl Alfr “Irongrip” af Vendel the construction of plans was essential. How else could he hope to oversee a spying network that had tentacles throughout the growing Danish kingdom and beyond? How else could he direct his generals in his misbegotten war for the province of Skara? How else could he hope to not only oversee the administration of the five provinces where he held titles, but also his home province of Vestmannaland?
Of course, the Jarl of Svíþjóð (Sweden) depended on many key people he trusted to carry off the management of these far-flung duties. But in the end, his success – inconsistent as it might be, even in his own mind – started with planning and getting the right people to help him plan.
For administrative duties, he trusted his wife Saga, who kept his holding running in Vestmannaland. She was the one who had rallied the defenses against the raiders who dared to attack in the winter when the jarl was away in Noregr (Norway).
For military matters, Alfr often depended upon Chief Sæmundr “the Champion” Kven of Gudbrandsdalen. But Sæmundr had stayed away from Alfr’s incursion into Skara. The Champion had told his jarl that he needed time to learn how to run Gudbrandsdalen correctly and acquaint himself with the people of Noregr, who he was governing. He did not intend to be an absentee overlord. However, after the blót, Sæmundr relented.
“You’ve had more than two years to learn how to run a province,” Alfr had argued. “If you don’t know how to do it now, and who to trust so you can be gone during campaigning season, then it is never going to work out.”
So after the blót, the two had mapped out ideas for a post-thaw offensive. Sæmundr would lead the campaign and take 600 warriors to seize the island of Gotland from Västergötland, with the idea that such a seizure might force a surrender. This plan avoided where the Geats of Västergötland had massed their troops, or at least where Alfr’s intelligence told him their troops were massed.
But that intelligence proved to be faulty and in the end Alfr’s plans were for naught. Not just his war plans, but everything he had sketched out for King Þorolfr after the blót.
Not waiting for the thaw, the Geats of Västergötland launched a counter-offensive against Alfr’s forces in March of 790 designed to retake the principle holding in Skara. Alfr and Sæmundr had not foreseen this move and it scuttled their plans to invade Gotland. Instead, Sæmundr marched inland from the coast leading his column of warriors with hopes they could reach Skara and break the siege.
While Jarl Alfr was back in Svíþjóð, one of his operatives in an alehouse in Gästrikland (near modern-day Gävle, Sweden) met a man trying to recruit killers to murder the king. Alfr’s spies tried to ambush and capture the recruiter but instead they killed him. A messenger eventually reached Alfr, with his troops, marching across Sudermanland (now called Södermanland) with Sæmundr. The Spymaster of Denmark knew immediately he would be seeking out the king much earlier than expected.
But in late March, the king had already been on the move as part of campaigning season too. The king’s retinue of elite warriors were already camping in Finland, not far from the borders of Käkisalmi. Their encampment was east of where the modern Finnish city of Kotka now stands (although no settlement existed there in the 8th Century). But the king did not have enough longships to transport the army that he and Jarl Sigurd “Ring,” the Field Marshal of Denmark, had assembled. Some of the troops from Denmark would meet the elite warriors east of Kotka and go with the small Danish fleet. But the bulk of the Danish troops would march from points in Denmark and Sweden to the rally point east of Kotka. This troop assemblage was slow, tedious and complex, and later that would prove costly to the Danish cause.
The king and Jarl Sigurd were also camping with troops in Sudermanland before heading up the coast to ferry points to get them to the Åland Islands and points east. Jarl Alfr broke away from Sæmundr’s column and headed to see the king at his camp.
Alfr arrived after the evening meal. He came into the king’s large tent still using his walking stick. The king immediately embraced him and called for the Æsir to bless him. The king helped Alfr lower himself to a sitting position on the rugs that lined the floor of the tent, which was lit by a few candles. The king’s new puppy trundled over and sniffed at Alfr’s boots then went over and curled up in the king’s lap as he sat cross-legged on the ground.
“Thanks for your help.”
Alfr said this, panting a bit.
“I’m such a gray-beard. My bones are creaking after a long day’s ride.”
“I did not expect to see you for many months as our campaigns and plans were carrying us in different directions,” King Þorolfr nodded. “Would you like something to drink? To eat?”
“I have an apple in my pocket.”
Alfr took out a mealy old apple, showing it to the king.
“Very good, so I’ll call for some apple wine then.”
The king said this and got up.
“No bother.”
Alfr waved at him.
“I don’t drink on an empty stomach.”
Alfr took a bite out of the apple, its pulpy juices squirting on his beard.
The king nodded but went to the tent’s flap nevertheless. He instructed the guards to have someone bring him some mulled apple wine, as the temperatures at the end of March were still brisk.
“But I’ve had my dinner and soon enough you won’t have an empty stomach.”
The king said this as he returned and sat, his puppy nuzzling against him.
“Before the wine gets here, let me quickly tell you of my bad news. Seems we have not quelled the plotters. Someone is still trying to hire killers to help in plots to have you murdered.”
“This convinces me all the more that Kraka and Ulfr were not the grand masters of espionage that you might have made them out to be. They failed to kill you twice. They don’t have the means to keep
these plots going from their detainment and I imagine you’ve ordered Kraka to the pit by now.”
“Yes. I left instructions before I departed from Sjælland, and that was more than two weeks ago.”
(Chieftess Kraka of Årus imprisoned in the pit, as imagined by Playground AI, the Stable Diffusion XL image generator, and Playground AI’s digital editor, Canvas.)
“Well, I have already checked with Sigurd. He is keeping your guards at the same level as the blót. We have not let down our attention to the threats.”
“I am in a military camp during campaigning season usually. I’m the safest I’m going to be.”
“An excellent spy could even get you here. Although, indeed, it would be difficult.”
“I have my trusty puppy to protect me.”
The king chuckled as he played with Veiði-hundr. The puppy was playing with the king’s hand, biting his rough skin with his tiny puppy teeth like the king’s hand was a toy.
Alfr chuckled too.
“Seriously, though, I came to tell you to be on your guard. Get this one trained as a guard dog.”
Alfr reached out and rubbed the puppy’s head hard and soon the puppy was teething on the jarl’s hand. The jarl took a bite from the apple in his other hand.
“So my usual question then: who is behind it?”
“My guess is Chieftess Þordis. We caught this spy in Gästrikland, the one who was recruiting killers to come after you. That’s not that far from her holding in Medelpad. That’s what the geography tells me but I’m going to have to investigate this more myself. Stamping out these lethal plots has to be my top priority.”
“Well, I agree and thank you for that.”
The king sighed.
“I feel I should just take this host of men and keep marching north up the Swedish coast to throttle her myself.”
“Well, until we have more proof, that’s premature. Keep your tyrannical tendencies chained up until the appropriate time.”
Alfr chortled as he pushed the puppy away. The puppy was now determined to take a bite from the jarl’s apple.
“Despite the tales my half-brother tells…”
The king sighed again.
“So part of my visit tonight was to inform you, my plans have changed. I won’t be heading out of the country anytime soon. I need to focus my spies on getting answers.”
“And should I inquire about your plans for Skara?”
“Please don’t.”
Alfr waved his hand in the air, as the king picked up the puppy to keep him from stealing the jarl’s apple.
“Those bastards have pulled more tricks on us. That’s why I’m riding across Sudermanland. But I’ve put Sæmundr in charge. He’ll get results.”
“Yes, the Champion is a fine man with an excellent reputation. A warrior’s warrior.”
The king nodded his head.
“I will have special messengers sent to keep you apprised of my progress while you are in Käkisalmi. Once I feel we have the situation in hand, only then I’ll depart for my foreign trip.”
“I appreciate that, jarl.”
Just then, a servant entered the tent with a bucket of mulled apple wine and two cups.
“See if you can find me something else to eat.”
Alfr instructed the servant.
“I need something more on my stomach if I’m going to drink with the king.”
And so the jarl and the king ate, drank, and told stories into the night, while playing with the puppy. They were both ready to break camp the next day, headed in the same direction now, but at different speeds. Jarl Alfr rode off toward Uppland with two military escorts, determined to find out who was recruiting killers.
Three weeks later, well past the midpoint of April, Alfr had not only met some success but he was on his way to find the king’s column of warriors as they marched toward the rally point for the invasion of Käkisalmi. With a mixed group of warriors and scouts, Alfr had departed in a karve from Uppland three days previous to hunt for the king’s column somewhere along Finland’s southern coast. They had found the king making camp along the Pikkalanjoki River, halfway between Lake Vikträsk and the Gulf of Finland.
Alfr came into the king’s tent in the late afternoon, and Jarl Sigurd "Ring" af Munsö of Finland was also there. They had been expecting Alfr, after guards had relayed news that the jarl had arrived at the temporary camp. Some men were still working to erect tents and defensive works while others had started the fires for the evening’s meal.
(King Þorolfr of Denmark meets in a tent with Jarl Alfr “Irongrip” af Vendel of Svíþjóð and Jarl Sigurd “Ring” af Munsö of Finland during campaigning season in 790 C.E. in this 8th Century woodcut, as imagined by the DALL·E image generator provided via Bing.)
“May the Æsir bless you. I had not expected to see you so soon.”
“My ears throughout the kingdom got lucky, perhaps.”
“It’s not luck,” Jarl Sigurd observed. “It’s skill. The skill of the Hero of the Blót and his spies.”
“Thank you, my friend. You are too kind to me.”
Alfr said this as he bowed a bit and then the three men settled into positions sitting on rugs in the king’s tent. Alfr slowly lowered himself with his walking stick. Veiði-hundr trundled over and licked one of Alfr’s hands before heading for the king’s lap.
Alfr then related that he had been working out of Uppland and Sigurd’s holding for the past few weeks, combing the alehouses himself. He had tried to blend in the best he could, listening for mercenaries and thugs for hire, and those who might hire them. He had pushed more of his spies into the places where traveling warriors might head, especially during the beginning of campaigning season, to find work and adventure throughout Svíþjóð but especially along Sweden’s eastern coast with the Gulf of Bothnia.
Two of Alfr’s spies eventually met a man in an alehouse in Uppland who was offering gold for a killing. They tricked the man into thinking they were interested, and then subdued him before bringing him to Jarl Alfr. As his assistants worked the man over, Alfr was able to get him to give all the information about his plot.
“And he was working for Chieftess Irmgard, the former queen.”
“So the former queen wants me dead? Why?”
The king asked this with some exasperation.
“That’s where my report goes in unexpected directions.”
Alfr said this with a serious tone.
“She doesn’t want to kill you. She wants to kill your concubine, Gyrið.”
“Oh, I thought you were hunting for plotters who wanted to kill me. I thought you would have news about that.”
The king said this with some annoyance and disappointment.
“Lest I remind you, my ears are listening for all plots that are about.”
Alfr now added an annoyed tone to his own voice.
“And who knows? These plots could be linked. Perhaps she wants to kill you both. But I definitely know she wants your consort dead. And here’s the odd part. The man I questioned said there are rumors about that Gyrið poisoned her one-time husband, Froði Kráka.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
The king said quickly, a bit too quickly.
“I never said you did.”
Alfr noted this and his eyes narrowed.
“But this gives me some concerns about Gyrið. Is she a spy now planted in your household? You might not remember, but she was pushed out of Västergötland despite the fact that young King Bersi is her son. I always felt that was in her favor and I do like Gyrið. Anyone who is an enemy to Västergötland is a friend of mine, frankly. But could she be part of some wider plot involving King Hjörvardr, Bersi’s father, and Östergötland? I think we need to be very careful with how we proceed with this information.”
“Sounds to me like jealousy, pure and simple. Irmgard fucks Gyrið’s husband and Gyrið wants revenge. So she kills him. Simple explanation. Why overcomplicate it with spies from Västergötland and Östergötland?”
“Froði died in his sleep.”
The king said this weakly in trying to defend his consort.
Alfr said this with some animation and pointed toward the king.
“You know this. I have had my suspicions for years. And to hear that Gyrið might be a spy, well that provides some new perspective. After the blót, a lot of folks are aware of slow-acting poisons now. Who’s to say Gyrið didn’t use the same methods that were tried on you, Þorolfr?”
“I think you are making a lot out of the accusations of someone you tortured.”
The king waved his hand in the air dismissively.
“We didn’t torture him. We may have punched and pushed him a bit, that’s all.”
“Accepted methods for dealing with spies and other thuggery.”
“Look, this has me very disturbed.”
Alfr again pointed at the king.
“We have spies everywhere. Gyrið is now possibly a spy. The queen has her own spies and a likely growing spy network. We have that loose cannon Ingjald Bleik up in Lapland with his spies. Many a chieftain and chieftess have their designs on power through plots and killings, like Chieftess Þordis. And now we discover the old queen has a spy network too. There are too many stinking spies about. How am I supposed to get my work done when it seems every other person in the kingdom is a spy? Makes you wonder how anything gets done, if everyone is spying on one another. Makes you wonder why everyone wants to do my job.”
The king shrugged.
Sigurd too was at a loss for a response. There was an awkward pause.
Finally, Sigurd broke the silence:
“That’s why you are so good at what you do, Alfr. It’s like a hike through a forest thick with blackflies in summer. You know how to persist and hack your way through.”
“I hope you haven’t been encouraging spying outside of my network. I hope you have not been going around me.”
Alfr said this as he pointed a third time at the king.
“Stop pointing, Alfr.”
The king nodded.
“What have I told you about vengeance?”
Alfr’s voice rose more.
“This is what happens. A ceaseless cycle of retribution.”
“It’s not ceaseless if you strike hard, fast, and completely.”
Sigurd said this with a menacing smile.
“Jarl Sigurd makes a good point. Perhaps we are forgetting the foundation of this news, and getting caught up in details that are hard to believe about Gyrið spying.”
“Why would a man working for Irmgard make up that story? He gave us the reason why Irmgard wants Gyrið dead. She believes your concubine killed her former husband. And yes, they think Froði was poisoned.”
“First they execute Gyrið’s character, and then they find a way to execute her. As you said, it could all be post-blót blather. This is how hysterical rumors work. Now, every suspicious death will be due to lily of the valley snuck into the wine.”
“I agree with the king, Alfr. You need to get more proof about the details. Doesn’t matter, really, to me. We know the former queen wants the king’s consort dead. We need to act on that.”
“And what does this mean about the plotters who want me dead? Is Irmgard among them? Does she want both Gyrið and me dead?”
“We only know definitively that she wants Gyrið dead.”
Alfr shook his head.
“But I cannot shake the feeling that all of this is linked to your father’s assassination, Þorolfr. And if not directly to the assassination, then the ripples of violence resonating from that event. I feel that in my aching bones.”
“Well, I have always felt that Saxon bitch betrayed my father. We now have cause to arrest her. No matter that she will be brought to justice for another crime.”
“I never liked that smug bitch either. It would be my pleasure to bring her to heel.”
Eventually, after more discussion, Alfr agreed to let his excited suspicions about Gyrið rest until more investigation later could reveal the full truth. The king continued to mention that there was no proof Froði had been murdered. All three agreed that Irmgard needed to be detained no matter the truth of her motivations. Sigurd would wait for ships to arrive from the rally point near the frontier with Käkisalmi and backtrack to Åland with 60 warriors to make his point, in case he faced any opposition from Chief Guðröðr Möring, Irmgard’s husband.
So three days later, Jarl Sigurd stood at the prow of a karve as the sun set and he could see Åland and Chief Guðröðr’s holding in the distance. With luck, they would be there just as darkness fell. He wanted his warriors to have the advantage of darkness in case they were opposed. These were some of Sigurd’s best troops with a heavy contingent of Ulfheðnar, the most ruthless fighters.
Sigurd reflected upon his visit to Åland just two weeks previous. Then he had accompanied the king at the head of a host of two thousand warriors, who knew they would have weeks more to march. They were happy to be camping outside of a holding with alehouses and women, not to mention the beautiful vistas of the Baltic as the flowers began blooming. Chief Guðröðr had invited Sigurd and the king to a small dinner party before the troops would depart eastward on ferries to resume their march. Sigurd found it unusual that Chieftess Irmgard, the former queen, had not attended that dinner. Sigurd wasn’t sure if Guðröðr was ashamed of his wife, who was widely known now as an adultress who had cuckolded him. Or if Guðröðr had asked Irmgard to stay away from the dinner in deference to the king, as the king was open about his enmity toward her.
Sigurd also understood the irony of his position, going to arrest the former queen and he smiled about that fact. Almost eleven years since he lost the Great Danish-Geatish Conflict, when Sigurd was forced to bow and bend the knee in Sjælland as a new vassal to King Hrœrekr II, here he was looking to jail Hrœrekr’s former wife. In Sigurd’s mind, it wasn’t getting revenge upon Hrœrekr completely, but it was a partial payment on what he thought he was owed for having to live through that defeat.
Besides, Sigurd often mused these days, who had really won that war? Weren’t he and Alfr the most powerful jarls in Denmark? Hadn’t they bent the king to their will on many occasions? Wasn’t Þorolfr following Sigurd’s wishes to expand the kingdom eastward? Given the king’s weaknesses, weren’t the jarls from Sweden the real driving forces in the kingdom? Sometime in the past decade, Sigurd had stopped lusting after independence and he had accepted his position. He understood that this Denmark was usually headed in the direction that he wanted it to go, even if he wasn’t at the helm getting all the glory. He knew he was still respected and feared throughout Scandinavia and that’s how he liked it.
Sigurd was not only widely known for his military conquests but he was respected by warriors throughout the kingdom. With his unforgettable facial tattoos, he was easily recognized. Anyone who had met him, dressed as he always was in his wolfskin cape and cap, would recall him. So it was that guards at the docks in Åland remembered him from earlier in the month. Sigurd was the first to jump off of the karves that had come from Finland and he already had his axe ready as he approached the guards.
Sigurd asked this of the two shadowy figures who stood on the dock as his men began to tie up and jump off the small ships. No one had torches. Sigurd had ordered his men not to light any until he gave the word, as he wasn’t sure how they would be greeted.
“Declare yourselves!” one of the guards shouted and Sigurd could see him pull back in a bracing position, readying a weapon.
“I am your jarl, and you will show me the respect I am due,” Sigurd declared, swaggering up to the men with his own axe in one of his hands.
The second guard moved forward slowly. Sigurd towered over both men who stood under six feet. The second guard looked up into the jarl’s growling face and noted the tattoos. “It’s Jarl Sigurd!” the second guard acknowledged. “What brings you back to these shores, my liege?”
The first guard relaxed.
“We are here to find something. Bring me to Chief Guðröðr and I will explain our business.”
The men nodded. “We will escort you to his hall,” the second guard agreed.
Sigurd turned back to his men and commanded:
“Torches! Now! Begin the search. Every building must be searched.”
Sigurd wasn’t going to wait for polite permission. He was Guðröðr’s liege and he wasn’t prepared to have Guðröðr stalling for his wife, if that was the course he decided to take. A vanguard of six warriors fell in behind Sigurd and lit a torch. Then they had the guards escort them to the chief’s longhouse, so Sigurd could deliver the news that he was here to take Irmgard into custody.
(Jarl Sigurd’s warriors on Åland with their torches, as imagined by Playground AI, the Stable Diffusion XL image generator, and Playground AI’s digital editor, Canvas.)
But the lighting of at least a dozen torches down at the docks did not go unnoticed at the chieftain’s longhouse. Later, Irmgard would thank the gods for guiding her outside at the right moment. If Sigurd had attacked the holding in Åland in a stealthy manner, approaching it like an enemy town, she would have surely been seized. But the torches told her something wasn’t right and she scrambled immediately. Sigurd’s friendly acceptance at the docks actually worked to Irmgard’s favor.
Inside the chieftain’s longhouse they had just finished the evening meal and Irmgard had stepped outside for a walk, as she often did. She realized there was no way she could re-enter and say good-bye to her two-year-old child, Hrafn. She had felt uneasy for the past week or so when her aide Vilhelm had not returned from Uppland when she expected. She had thought perhaps that he had gone on to another province to recruit someone to help her with her plots. But the blossoming of the torches told her something else was afoot.
She began running immediately. She had a few items stashed in a barn on the far end of the settlement near the pastures for just such an emergency. She began heading that way as fast as she could run in her dress.
Once she was there, she climbed up into the empty hayloft. At this time in the spring, the building was depleted of its stocks and almost all of the animals were still housed in people’s homes. In the back of the loft though there were some loose boards and behind those there was a package wrapped in cloth of items she needed. The package included: a blouse; loose trousers; a dark cloak; a dagger; and a small bag with some gold. She quickly changed into the clothes and secured the dagger in her belt.
But she had taken too long. A lone warrior entered the barn flashing a torch around, as he came inside to inspect and look into the shadows. She braced and prepared herself, hoping he would not climb into the hayloft. She slowly dropped to all fours and crawled to the edge of the loft. Slowly she pulled the dagger out and had it ready in one hand. As the warrior looked around below she braced herself against the beams. When he was close enough and not directly under her, she launched herself with the dagger extended in one hand. She had aimed to hit him and cling to his back while she quickly stabbed around the neck area. Caught by surprise, he dropped his torch and it rolled across the barn floor, igniting a few stray strands of straw but inevitably bouncing harmlessly into the middle of the barn. The warrior was knocked to the ground but not completely disabled. She had grievously wounded him but not killed him. He hit the earthen floor of the barn but immediately rolled while drawing a hunting knife from his belt. Irmgard had slid off his back as he broke her fall. She danced and circled him as he was still on his knees, trying to track her in the flickering light. She made up her mind she had to strike before he called out to bring his comrades. He was wobbling on his knees with blood flowing down his chest, but he started to right himself. He brought himself to one knee, attempting to spin to where Irmgard was dancing. But she quickly dropped behind him and brought the dagger down hard into his throat. The warrior dropped his knife and fell to the floor holding his gashed open throat.
Irmgard sprinted and gathered up the flickering torch. She brought it with her to the warrior who was still struggling with his last breaths on the floor of the barn. She dropped it on the man, setting his clothes alight. Then she bolted for the barn’s entrance, looking around quickly.
She could see other torches in the distance as men were searching every building. Again, she thanked the gods that only one warrior had come to this lonely barn. She headed in the other direction across the pasture and toward a line of trees to the northwest. Her aim was to get to the western side of Åland’s main island, where she and Vilhelm had stashed a boat similar to a skiff in the underbrush near the shore. Her plan was to use that boat to navigate the 60 miles or so to the Swedish shore and not get caught. She headed out with determination and confidence, as she saw no torches following her.
Back at the chieftain’s longhouse, Jarl Sigurd was sitting with Chief Guðröðr, as Sigurd’s men, assisted by Guðröðr’s guards, went searching for Irmgard.
“That woman has been nothing but trouble for me,” Guðröðr lamented. “The king certainly unloaded his family’s trash on me.”
“What do you know of her spying operation?”
“She’s uncontrollable. She travels to Saxony, or Noregr or wherever on a whim.”
Guðröðr shook his head.
“In a way, part of me is glad you are here to take her away. I had no idea she was aiming to kill the king’s consort.”
Sigurd nodded.
“But Guðröðr, you have to learn this is what happens when you let women run amok. They have to be controlled.”
“Maybe it’s just Saxon women. She’s a feisty one and spoiled rotten too.”
Just then, one of Sigurd’s men came bolting into the longhouse to report to the jarl. “We found Leif dead in a barn at the edge of the settlement. Someone had set his body on fire.”
“Regroup the men. Sound the horns. We will need to search this entire island. Some rich spoiled priss like her is going to have to swim to get off unless she’s got help.”
Then Sigurd turned to Guðröðr.
“Who is helping her? If I discover you’ve been stalling and distracting me, I’ll have your head.”
“It wasn’t me, Jarl Sigurd.”
Guðröðr said this with a defensive tone.
“She has her assistant Vilhelm but he hasn’t been on the island for weeks. Of course, she has servants, but they are here with us in the longhouse as far as I can tell.”
“Take a headcount. I want everyone accounted for. And if I find anyone who has helped her, I will have their necks too.”
But it was to no avail. Irmgard had eluded Sigurd and his warriors. She would make the journey across the strait to Sweden and disappear, while Sigurd and his men scoured the main island of Åland for days. Sigurd wasn’t sure how he would tell the king and Jarl Alfr of his failure.
(The images included in this chapter are all from accounts linked to @Chac1 where he holds the copyright. They are primarily from Playground AI, but some are from Bing, including the Lost Seasons of the Danes logo. The LunaPic image editor was used to alter some images. Special facial effects provided via the Scar Booth app. )
