Piety of the North Star
- Thread starter Saithis
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RGB: It's definitely Cecilie's doing - she's very organized, connected and forward-thinking and is trying to pass that on to Harald as well!
General_BT: Harald will damn well seem like it if he becomes Hertug, that's for sure. His talents are well above anyone I've had so far, but first he's got to make it to adulthood and inherit the power from Auden!
MikeOfTipton: Nice to hear it, sorry about the lack of posts, a combination of lack of comments and a very busy real life have kept me from mustering up a post.
General_BT: Harald will damn well seem like it if he becomes Hertug, that's for sure. His talents are well above anyone I've had so far, but first he's got to make it to adulthood and inherit the power from Auden!
MikeOfTipton: Nice to hear it, sorry about the lack of posts, a combination of lack of comments and a very busy real life have kept me from mustering up a post.
This is very overdue...my plan is to finish off the story until Auden's death before CK2 comes out, and then convert the game over to CK2. Fresh viewers, fresh start with Auden's heir, hopefully revitalize this a bit.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 49 – Exodus
28th of May, 1084 Anno Domini
Her hips were curvy, her body brought him lust, her cheeks were rosy as she smiled at him. He swallowed and reached back for the laces of her clothes, preparing to pull them and leave her bare. “Astrithr...” he whispered to her.
“Harald...Harald?”
The voice broke the teen from his daydreaming. He glowered at his brother a little, the young Hardeknut, but kept his voice calm. “What is it, brother? What's wrong?”
The young Hvide was in tears and Harald could tell that his brother was distraught about something, but exactly what he was unsure. Although a little uncomfortable, he reached out and placed a calming hand on the young boy's shoulder. “Shhh, easy Hardeknut...what's going on?”
“It's father, and mother...” The boy sniffled. “They're yelling, real loud...I went to see what was wrong but father yelled at me to get out...everyone's heard it but no one knows what's going on...”
Harald sighed deeply, and collected himself, stretching his neck a little before speaking. “I see, thank you for bringing this to my attention, Hardeknut...get the boys together, tell them I want all of you to meet in the usual place. I think I know what's going on, but I'm going to go talk to them first.”
He smiled at his brother and patted his head. “Don't you fret, brother. Nothing bad shall happen to you. Now go.”
Hardeknut nodded dutifully and shuffled off, wiping at tears. Harald sighed deeply and made sure his shirt was well-laced. He wasn't ready for this, but then, he probably never would be – there was only one reason he could think of for those two to fight so bitterly, and he wanted to be there to see what would happen first-hand.
The Hvide heir quickly wrapped the cloth around his hand. Father had delayed his trip to the Baltic for another month so that he could arrange for matters of home defence – it was deemed very likely that the Slavs of Brandenburg would attack Sjælland's newest vassals, and most of the court was concerned about the potential for Denmark to be dragged into the Imperial Civil War. Brandenburg was nominally allied to the Duke of Swabia, who in turn was the leader of the coalition that had risen up against the Emperor – a coalition that, so far, was winning the war. From what he understood, France too was heavily involved, with the Capetian King marching his army towards the Rhine, intent on breaking Frankish power for good. Times seemed poor for the Emperor, and Harald didn't want to see Sjælland aligned against so many powers at once.
Harald, of course, knew far more than he should about the whole situation – at least that was what he believed. Cecilie had begun to put him in contact with her own intelligence network, and explaining how it was constructed – it was complex, he was staggered that she had achieved something with so few resources. As always, when he tried to pry into her secrets, she kept her cards close to her chest. She was a woman of few revelations, it seemed, but he was learning more and more as he went – she wasn't Scandinavian by birth, of that he was sure, and she was once endowed of no small sum of money or power. Why she was here in Denmark, he wasn't sure, but he was thankful to have her as a mentor nonetheless.
His thoughts kept him busy until the first shouts became discernible, and he rounded the corner just in time to see his mother screaming nearly at the top of her lungs at Auden. Harald winced, but stepped in anyways, folding his arms in discontent. It took a few seconds for Auden to notice him, and the Hertug-Biskop did a double take before shaking an angry hand in the direction of the door. “Get out Harald!”
Harald's chin rose defiantly and he answered in one word. “No.”
“What?” Auden snapped, turning fully towards his son. “How dare you defy me!”
“Calm down Father!” Harald snapped, standing straight. He was no small boy and even at this age he nearly matched his own father in height. “You've got half the castle and all of your sons in a confused panic and no one knows what's going on! As your eldest son and heir to the Hvide, I demand you tell me what's going on!”
“You dem-YOU DEMAND?!” Auden snapped and kicked a chair, snapping its legs clean off from the force of the blow. “How...you...” He closed in on Harald, as if to strike, but the boy did not flinch, and continued to stare with those cold, calculating eyes. Auden rubbed at his forehead and then jaw, gritting his teeth a bit before turning.
“Your mother is leaving.” He hissed.
Gro stood in tears and waved her arms hysterically. “I've been framed, don't you get that! It's just one letter, it's not true!”
“Letter?” Harald raised his eyebrow. Had Cecilie...?
“Aye, a letter.” Auden's voice was calmer and more gravelly now, and the youth seemed to have been drained from him. “Multiple eyewitness accounts of my wife's secret pregnancy...of my wife's infidelity...and I am sure she has laid with the man in black, the German who they say follows her in the dark. I have made him the most wanted man in Sjælland, for the crimes of multiple murders. He will not rest easy so long as he is in our borders.”
Harald gritted his teeth. “So at last you have come to believe me, father? That this is not just my paranoia?”
“Believe you? I...” Auden shook his head. “Yes, I believe you, my son. I do not know how, or why, but it seems you are gifted with clairvoyance beyond my own.”
“Auden please...” Gro moved to the Hvide Chieftain, clinging to his arm pitifully. “Please, you know it's not true. I love you, my heart has always been yours, my body has only ever been for you...these rumours are cruel and hateful!”
Auden shook his head. “I love you more than anything, Gro...more than the moon and the stars, nearly as much as the Lord himself. I trusted you...but if the last ten-and-eight years have meant anything to you, you would tell me the truth...is Ernst your son?”
Gro choked, and looked ashamed, as if she would lie. “I...I was drunk, my husband...I was drunk...it was just one night, I was so ashamed I couldn't let you know...I couldn't break your heart.”
Harald squinted. He was quite sure that his mother had spent more than just one night in the arms of another man, but he kept his tongue silent.
Auden wrapped his arms around her and sighed. “My poor, foolish wife...look at what's gotten into your head...you should have just told me...”
Gro stared up at him in shock. “Y-you're not mad?”
“Mad?” Auden snorted. “Of course I'm mad...but it is not you that arouses my anger...no...” He shook his head, looking distant as he held her.
“Father, I...” Harald interrupted. “The one who fathered Ernst is-”
“Skjalm, I know.” Auden choked a little, crying himself. “My own brother, he tried to confess to me, but I would not listen. I could not believe it – I refused to believe it. I always assumed he made it up out of jealousy of what Gro and I had, but now I know that I was the fool...”
The elderly Hvide gave Gro one more soft squeeze, letting the princess cry. Harald felt disgusted, was this truly how it would end, with his mother wiling her way out of one more situation?
“My dear wife...it is not you that I am angry at...it is the devil that has taken your soul.” Auden shook his head and shoved her away violently all at once. She shrieked in surprise as he pinned her down and ripped the cross from his neck, forcing it against her face.
“The sins of the devil have corrupted you, he has led you astray and tried to tarnish the good name of our family and my brother. You shall not leave these chambers, my wife. By the order of the Hvide Clan, by the power invested in me by God himself, I am ordering your banishment, you shall live in exile in the newly built St. Mary Abbey at Riga, where you may contemplate your failures and pray for the Lord's forgiveness. Perhaps once your soul is pure, we shall meet again in the afterlife.”
The Bishop began praying in latin through her shrieking tears, holding her down by the neck until she could hardly breathe, and then at long last he let go, leaving her bruised and choking for air. Harald swallowed and stared in horror, the sudden reaction far more violent than he had expected. Auden collected himself and straightened his garments, then walked past Harald, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“My son, your first moment of Clan business is at hand. I want you make sure arrangements are made for your mother's transport, and do not show her mercy lest the devil win one more soul. You are a man now, prove it to everyone as you have proven it to me – I am leaving for Roskilde, and then for war. I will send for you when I need you, for when two years have passed, I wish for you to join me and gain your first taste of battle. That is all...”
He left without another word. Harald didn't know it, but it would be one of the last times he saw his father. Swallowing, he turned to his sobbing mother, and although reluctant, he moved to check on her. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing, but was alive and laid weakly against the bed. He shook his head, disappointed at the sight, and pained to see his flesh and blood suffering.
“Mother, I...”
She looked at him with sharp eyes. “Y-you...gave him...”
His head shook slowly. “Not me...I don't have a copy of the letter, although I knew what it was. I did try to tell my father, but he wouldn't listen...I didn't think this would happen.”
She laughed weakly, then winced, holding her throat. Her voice was raspy and weak now from the yelling and constriction. “It was Cecilie, I'm sure...” She looked disappointed. “All I wanted, all I wanted was for my own flesh and blood to rule...now it seems I will be locked in a monastery, with no men, no money, no power...”
Harald couldn't feel entirely sorry for her – this was a failure of her own making. His eyes narrowed as he regarded her, and then he chuckled. “Did you try to kill Jens?”
“Kill him? I did, yes...” She chuckled a little. “But it didn't exactly work out – Ernst may be mad, but apparently not mad enough to kill someone he sees as a brother...and I wouldn't send him after you.”
“Ernst is mad?” Harald frowned. “He never looked it...I thought he was just a fool.”
“He hides it well, Harald...” She choked and rubbed at her neck again. “Harald...tell my sons what has transpired...but please, don't tell them what I have done...don't tell them Ernst is my bastard...I want my children to look upon me favourably.”
Harald Audensen sighed deeply, then nodded. “A-alright...I won't tell them. But in exchange I want to know something...why did you pit Ernst against me? Why did you favour Ernst all the time, why is Ernst the one you keep trying to put in power? Why did you try to kill Cecilie?”
“Kill...Cecilie?” She chuckled. “Oh right, that. I didn't think things would go this way, I underestimated how close you were...I never wanted to kill her, just scare her. It'd be too obvious if she suddenly died, her contacts would have found a way to ruin me. And Ernst...favoured...” She laughed. “No, you were the one favoured, Harald. You think I do not know Ernst's incompetence? I love him as a son, but he is not worthy to inherit this land, or the Throne.” She pointed a finger at him. “It's you, Harald. I've been trying to train you.”
“Train...me?”
“I am not blind, son...I love you, and I am even jealous and afraid of how intelligent you have become. Here you stand at 14 years of age and you have outwitted half of my plans, your informants have brought you news of the Imperial Civil War before even I knew of it, and now you have bested your father with words. I have made sure that you received the best training possible, even if it meant letting that Saxon wench put ideas in your head...”
“Saxon?” Harald raised an eyebrow, then it hit him. “Wait, you mean Cecilie? Is she Saxon?”
Gro chuckled. “You don't know? I guess that's one thing I figured out before you...I won't say any more, it's up to her to tell you the rest.”
“Tell me what, mother? What is there to know about Cecilie?”
The princess of Denmark slowly stood and straightened her clothes. Several guards had arrived at the entrance to the bedchamber, glaring sharply at her. “No more time to talk, my son, my jailers have arrived.”
“They can wait!” Harald stood between them.
“I'm not going to tell you anything.” She stared at him sharply. “Consider finding out one of your final tests...I will make the last arrangements I can from the Abbey, you will understand what I mean in the coming years.”
“Wait, mother!” He tried to stop her as she brushed past, but she glared at him.
“I have told you everything I will, Harald. Leave it be.”
Harald Audensen Hvide sat before his brothers, his face deeply lined with worry. It was the first time in a long time that no adult members of the Hvide Clan were present in Søborg, and his brothers looked fearful and confused. Their parents had simply disappeared and now they looked to him for leadership and help. He was going to give it to them.
“Okay...” Harald clapped his hands together and leaned forward. His eyes were cast downwards a little, and he took a deep breath. “We've got a long talk to have...and now it seems I'm officially in charge of Søborg while our parents are gone...”
He looked around at the tiny, dark chamber they huddled in. “I have a lot to tell you, my brothers...so here goes...”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 49 – Exodus
28th of May, 1084 Anno Domini
Her hips were curvy, her body brought him lust, her cheeks were rosy as she smiled at him. He swallowed and reached back for the laces of her clothes, preparing to pull them and leave her bare. “Astrithr...” he whispered to her.
“Harald...Harald?”
The voice broke the teen from his daydreaming. He glowered at his brother a little, the young Hardeknut, but kept his voice calm. “What is it, brother? What's wrong?”
The young Hvide was in tears and Harald could tell that his brother was distraught about something, but exactly what he was unsure. Although a little uncomfortable, he reached out and placed a calming hand on the young boy's shoulder. “Shhh, easy Hardeknut...what's going on?”
“It's father, and mother...” The boy sniffled. “They're yelling, real loud...I went to see what was wrong but father yelled at me to get out...everyone's heard it but no one knows what's going on...”
Harald sighed deeply, and collected himself, stretching his neck a little before speaking. “I see, thank you for bringing this to my attention, Hardeknut...get the boys together, tell them I want all of you to meet in the usual place. I think I know what's going on, but I'm going to go talk to them first.”
He smiled at his brother and patted his head. “Don't you fret, brother. Nothing bad shall happen to you. Now go.”
Hardeknut nodded dutifully and shuffled off, wiping at tears. Harald sighed deeply and made sure his shirt was well-laced. He wasn't ready for this, but then, he probably never would be – there was only one reason he could think of for those two to fight so bitterly, and he wanted to be there to see what would happen first-hand.
The Hvide heir quickly wrapped the cloth around his hand. Father had delayed his trip to the Baltic for another month so that he could arrange for matters of home defence – it was deemed very likely that the Slavs of Brandenburg would attack Sjælland's newest vassals, and most of the court was concerned about the potential for Denmark to be dragged into the Imperial Civil War. Brandenburg was nominally allied to the Duke of Swabia, who in turn was the leader of the coalition that had risen up against the Emperor – a coalition that, so far, was winning the war. From what he understood, France too was heavily involved, with the Capetian King marching his army towards the Rhine, intent on breaking Frankish power for good. Times seemed poor for the Emperor, and Harald didn't want to see Sjælland aligned against so many powers at once.
Harald, of course, knew far more than he should about the whole situation – at least that was what he believed. Cecilie had begun to put him in contact with her own intelligence network, and explaining how it was constructed – it was complex, he was staggered that she had achieved something with so few resources. As always, when he tried to pry into her secrets, she kept her cards close to her chest. She was a woman of few revelations, it seemed, but he was learning more and more as he went – she wasn't Scandinavian by birth, of that he was sure, and she was once endowed of no small sum of money or power. Why she was here in Denmark, he wasn't sure, but he was thankful to have her as a mentor nonetheless.
His thoughts kept him busy until the first shouts became discernible, and he rounded the corner just in time to see his mother screaming nearly at the top of her lungs at Auden. Harald winced, but stepped in anyways, folding his arms in discontent. It took a few seconds for Auden to notice him, and the Hertug-Biskop did a double take before shaking an angry hand in the direction of the door. “Get out Harald!”
Harald's chin rose defiantly and he answered in one word. “No.”
“What?” Auden snapped, turning fully towards his son. “How dare you defy me!”
“Calm down Father!” Harald snapped, standing straight. He was no small boy and even at this age he nearly matched his own father in height. “You've got half the castle and all of your sons in a confused panic and no one knows what's going on! As your eldest son and heir to the Hvide, I demand you tell me what's going on!”
“You dem-YOU DEMAND?!” Auden snapped and kicked a chair, snapping its legs clean off from the force of the blow. “How...you...” He closed in on Harald, as if to strike, but the boy did not flinch, and continued to stare with those cold, calculating eyes. Auden rubbed at his forehead and then jaw, gritting his teeth a bit before turning.
“Your mother is leaving.” He hissed.
Gro stood in tears and waved her arms hysterically. “I've been framed, don't you get that! It's just one letter, it's not true!”
“Letter?” Harald raised his eyebrow. Had Cecilie...?
“Aye, a letter.” Auden's voice was calmer and more gravelly now, and the youth seemed to have been drained from him. “Multiple eyewitness accounts of my wife's secret pregnancy...of my wife's infidelity...and I am sure she has laid with the man in black, the German who they say follows her in the dark. I have made him the most wanted man in Sjælland, for the crimes of multiple murders. He will not rest easy so long as he is in our borders.”
Harald gritted his teeth. “So at last you have come to believe me, father? That this is not just my paranoia?”
“Believe you? I...” Auden shook his head. “Yes, I believe you, my son. I do not know how, or why, but it seems you are gifted with clairvoyance beyond my own.”
“Auden please...” Gro moved to the Hvide Chieftain, clinging to his arm pitifully. “Please, you know it's not true. I love you, my heart has always been yours, my body has only ever been for you...these rumours are cruel and hateful!”
Auden shook his head. “I love you more than anything, Gro...more than the moon and the stars, nearly as much as the Lord himself. I trusted you...but if the last ten-and-eight years have meant anything to you, you would tell me the truth...is Ernst your son?”
Gro choked, and looked ashamed, as if she would lie. “I...I was drunk, my husband...I was drunk...it was just one night, I was so ashamed I couldn't let you know...I couldn't break your heart.”
Harald squinted. He was quite sure that his mother had spent more than just one night in the arms of another man, but he kept his tongue silent.
Auden wrapped his arms around her and sighed. “My poor, foolish wife...look at what's gotten into your head...you should have just told me...”
Gro stared up at him in shock. “Y-you're not mad?”
“Mad?” Auden snorted. “Of course I'm mad...but it is not you that arouses my anger...no...” He shook his head, looking distant as he held her.
“Father, I...” Harald interrupted. “The one who fathered Ernst is-”
“Skjalm, I know.” Auden choked a little, crying himself. “My own brother, he tried to confess to me, but I would not listen. I could not believe it – I refused to believe it. I always assumed he made it up out of jealousy of what Gro and I had, but now I know that I was the fool...”
The elderly Hvide gave Gro one more soft squeeze, letting the princess cry. Harald felt disgusted, was this truly how it would end, with his mother wiling her way out of one more situation?
“My dear wife...it is not you that I am angry at...it is the devil that has taken your soul.” Auden shook his head and shoved her away violently all at once. She shrieked in surprise as he pinned her down and ripped the cross from his neck, forcing it against her face.
“The sins of the devil have corrupted you, he has led you astray and tried to tarnish the good name of our family and my brother. You shall not leave these chambers, my wife. By the order of the Hvide Clan, by the power invested in me by God himself, I am ordering your banishment, you shall live in exile in the newly built St. Mary Abbey at Riga, where you may contemplate your failures and pray for the Lord's forgiveness. Perhaps once your soul is pure, we shall meet again in the afterlife.”
The Bishop began praying in latin through her shrieking tears, holding her down by the neck until she could hardly breathe, and then at long last he let go, leaving her bruised and choking for air. Harald swallowed and stared in horror, the sudden reaction far more violent than he had expected. Auden collected himself and straightened his garments, then walked past Harald, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“My son, your first moment of Clan business is at hand. I want you make sure arrangements are made for your mother's transport, and do not show her mercy lest the devil win one more soul. You are a man now, prove it to everyone as you have proven it to me – I am leaving for Roskilde, and then for war. I will send for you when I need you, for when two years have passed, I wish for you to join me and gain your first taste of battle. That is all...”
He left without another word. Harald didn't know it, but it would be one of the last times he saw his father. Swallowing, he turned to his sobbing mother, and although reluctant, he moved to check on her. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing, but was alive and laid weakly against the bed. He shook his head, disappointed at the sight, and pained to see his flesh and blood suffering.
“Mother, I...”
She looked at him with sharp eyes. “Y-you...gave him...”
His head shook slowly. “Not me...I don't have a copy of the letter, although I knew what it was. I did try to tell my father, but he wouldn't listen...I didn't think this would happen.”
She laughed weakly, then winced, holding her throat. Her voice was raspy and weak now from the yelling and constriction. “It was Cecilie, I'm sure...” She looked disappointed. “All I wanted, all I wanted was for my own flesh and blood to rule...now it seems I will be locked in a monastery, with no men, no money, no power...”
Harald couldn't feel entirely sorry for her – this was a failure of her own making. His eyes narrowed as he regarded her, and then he chuckled. “Did you try to kill Jens?”
“Kill him? I did, yes...” She chuckled a little. “But it didn't exactly work out – Ernst may be mad, but apparently not mad enough to kill someone he sees as a brother...and I wouldn't send him after you.”
“Ernst is mad?” Harald frowned. “He never looked it...I thought he was just a fool.”
“He hides it well, Harald...” She choked and rubbed at her neck again. “Harald...tell my sons what has transpired...but please, don't tell them what I have done...don't tell them Ernst is my bastard...I want my children to look upon me favourably.”
Harald Audensen sighed deeply, then nodded. “A-alright...I won't tell them. But in exchange I want to know something...why did you pit Ernst against me? Why did you favour Ernst all the time, why is Ernst the one you keep trying to put in power? Why did you try to kill Cecilie?”
“Kill...Cecilie?” She chuckled. “Oh right, that. I didn't think things would go this way, I underestimated how close you were...I never wanted to kill her, just scare her. It'd be too obvious if she suddenly died, her contacts would have found a way to ruin me. And Ernst...favoured...” She laughed. “No, you were the one favoured, Harald. You think I do not know Ernst's incompetence? I love him as a son, but he is not worthy to inherit this land, or the Throne.” She pointed a finger at him. “It's you, Harald. I've been trying to train you.”
“Train...me?”
“I am not blind, son...I love you, and I am even jealous and afraid of how intelligent you have become. Here you stand at 14 years of age and you have outwitted half of my plans, your informants have brought you news of the Imperial Civil War before even I knew of it, and now you have bested your father with words. I have made sure that you received the best training possible, even if it meant letting that Saxon wench put ideas in your head...”
“Saxon?” Harald raised an eyebrow, then it hit him. “Wait, you mean Cecilie? Is she Saxon?”
Gro chuckled. “You don't know? I guess that's one thing I figured out before you...I won't say any more, it's up to her to tell you the rest.”
“Tell me what, mother? What is there to know about Cecilie?”
The princess of Denmark slowly stood and straightened her clothes. Several guards had arrived at the entrance to the bedchamber, glaring sharply at her. “No more time to talk, my son, my jailers have arrived.”
“They can wait!” Harald stood between them.
“I'm not going to tell you anything.” She stared at him sharply. “Consider finding out one of your final tests...I will make the last arrangements I can from the Abbey, you will understand what I mean in the coming years.”
“Wait, mother!” He tried to stop her as she brushed past, but she glared at him.
“I have told you everything I will, Harald. Leave it be.”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Harald Audensen Hvide sat before his brothers, his face deeply lined with worry. It was the first time in a long time that no adult members of the Hvide Clan were present in Søborg, and his brothers looked fearful and confused. Their parents had simply disappeared and now they looked to him for leadership and help. He was going to give it to them.
“Okay...” Harald clapped his hands together and leaned forward. His eyes were cast downwards a little, and he took a deep breath. “We've got a long talk to have...and now it seems I'm officially in charge of Søborg while our parents are gone...”
He looked around at the tiny, dark chamber they huddled in. “I have a lot to tell you, my brothers...so here goes...”
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Ahhhh....Monastery. How very Audenish of Auden.
This is one messed up way of showing love, lady!!!!
This is one messed up way of showing love, lady!!!!
Ah, Gro. Your plans have failed at last. Though it was a nice try, it couldn't last forever. At least Auden gave Gro the punishment she deserved.
I'm surprised though, that she was indirectly trying to train Harald, though it fits Gro's character to do it that way. I'm sad to see her banished but it's time for the next generation to take the stage and Harald is still so cool <3.
I'm intrigued by the true identity of Cecile and can't wait to hear more about that, I bet it'll get a nice twist like this story always gets. ^_^
Good job, Sai, keep it up. :3
I'm surprised though, that she was indirectly trying to train Harald, though it fits Gro's character to do it that way. I'm sad to see her banished but it's time for the next generation to take the stage and Harald is still so cool <3.
I'm intrigued by the true identity of Cecile and can't wait to hear more about that, I bet it'll get a nice twist like this story always gets. ^_^
Good job, Sai, keep it up. :3
Training Harald via trial sounds completely like Gro. I guess she did care for him... in a strange, twisted way.
As for Harald, to have stone cold eyes and disposition in the face of his father at 14... there's some iron running in his blood. Should he become head of Hvide, the Baltic coast shall tremble...
As for Harald, to have stone cold eyes and disposition in the face of his father at 14... there's some iron running in his blood. Should he become head of Hvide, the Baltic coast shall tremble...
Wow didn't expect Gro to ever go , especially not like this , still as always i hypnotised by the story , thanks for keeping it going , i hope you adapt it for CK2
Yes, I also expected her to perhaps die of old age. But this way...well. It makes more sense, it's certainly more logical, and certainly more in-period. Doesn't make it any less of a surprise.
Just an update - now that the busy holiday season is completely over, I've got an update in the works and I hope to have it posted by Tuesday or perhaps early Wednesday! Thanks for the support!
Late as usual.
RGB: He attends the Knud Knýtling school of discipline. As for Gro, in her own twisted mind what she did was the best for her son, even if to others it may seem completely insane.
Ilyavania: She was a good schemer, but only the best can keep it up consequence free forever – and she was plotting on borrowed time as long as Cecilie knew what she was up to. If Auden hadn't banished her, then his successor probably would have. She'd just done too much to get away with it by that point.
General_BT: Despite the risks it has probably been good for Harald from a leadership point of view. He's been forced to live with constant challenge and threat ever since he was little – the biggest worry is how well-adjusted he'll turn out as a result, more than how competent he'll be under pressure. He's got a hell of a spirit though, and he's very proud and confident – for good reason, I think, after the trials he's faced at such a young age.
MikeOfTipton: Gro had to go sooner or later, one can only get away with so much. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and yes, I will definitely be continuing this in CK2. I've already got an outline of what everything is going to look like, I just need to start modding the day it comes out to get it ready in a reasonable amount of time.
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Chapter 50 – Politics
22nd of January, 1086 Anno Domini
Harald paced nervously, his hands folded behind his back, his eyes narrowed. A thin, wispy beard was visible on his chin and jawline, and his face had begun to harden from that of a boy into that of a man. He was now sixteen years of age, a proud, strong adult, and his true responsibilities were before him – the Clan had expected him to leave immediately for the Baltic, but that had not been the case. Harald had other plans and using his money and clout he had ordered the ship to sail north. The sea was cold but had not frozen over this winter - he was confident the journey would be safely made.
Though the shores of Norway were intimidating to him – he had never been here after all – he and his guard had shown nothing but confidence and calm here in Oslo. Though the town was relatively new, it was one of the finest cultural centres in Scandinavia, and the people here seemed wealthy and happy. He understood Norwegian (although it sounded strange and alien to his ear), and again he felt strange at the shroud of mystery he entered in. Although some recognized his banner, few recognized this boy or knew he was, and when he requested an audience with King Olaf, his guards looked bemused at this strange young boy.
He was lucky, perhaps, that Olaf had been able to see him on such short notice, but now he had been left to wait for some two hours. Impatiently, he wandered back and forth, his heart rarely slowing as the stress and worry ate away at him. This was his first independent act of diplomacy, and he had no idea how it was going to go or what to expect. His face remained stone-cold and impassive even as the doors finally opened.
The Norwegian Chancellor was a tall, middle-aged blond man by the name of Ludvik, who regarded him with a sense of smug superiority. The Hvide Clan was well known throughout most of Northern and Central Europe due to their great success in the Baltic Crusades, but Harald was still little more than the unproven nephew of Skjalm Tokesen, and his uncle alone would not win him respect.
“Master Hvide.” The Chancellor bowed respectfully, but did not lower his eyes. “My Sovereign, His Majesty King Olaf III Haraldsson is prepared to speak with you – but I do ask that your company remain polite and of good company, else you shall find your warm welcome disappear before your very eyes.”
Harald bowed in return, and he did not avert his eyes either. “Thank you.” He said curtly, regarding the Chancellor with a scrutinizing eye. The Norwegian's lip twitched a little, and Harald couldn't help but give a wry grin – he was nervous, that at least was good for him. If his coming was cause for concern of any kind, it meant his name held clout still – even if this went badly, he at least would know he was respected in some way.
The young Hvide man entered the Hall, and found the King on his throne discussing something with one of his advisors. Seeing Harald, Olaf waved the advisor away, and although old now, his voice was still booming and powerful. “So, the Hvide whelp comes to my Hall, what ill dark news brings your Clan to my home?”
Harald lowered himself to one knee and cast his eyes down respectfully for the King, before responding in accented, albeit correct, Norwegian. “Your Majesty, I am here on personal business to discuss with you – we have brought for you a gift, to thank you for taking us into your hall, and as a show of friendship from Harald Audensson to Olaf Haraldsson.” The young man waved to one of his entourage, who held out what looked like a package of furs wrapping some kind of item.
A single eyebrow raised in curiousity and the King beckoned with one hand. “You may rise. What is your gift?”
Harald took the package and unwrapped it carefully, showing it to be the finest quality Russian bear fur, and inside it was an elegant blade. “Your Majesty, this fur cloak and blade were taken from Darius, the leader of the Lithuanian resistance. They are prized treasures of the Hvide Clan, symbols of our victory and dominance over the Balts. I now offer them to you.”
Olaf seemed surprised, but reached out and took them, admiring the fine craftsmanship. “This is quite a gift you offer me, Harald of Hvide. Has your father sent you as some kind of peace offering? I will not forget the slight he and his brother committed so easily.”
Harald shook his head. “No – my father does not know I am here, nor shall he if I have my way. My guards have sworn my visit to secrecy, for I come here to negotiate with you personally.”
The King leaned back in his throne. “I see. Your gift and your politeness have impressed me, Harald, but what do you expect to gain from this? Surely you have not simply come to Oslo to impress me, you must have some kind of motive.”
“Aye your Majesty, I do. I've come here to try and earn your daughter's hand in marriage.”
Olaf scoffed, a frown returning to his face. “You think you can up and inherit my throne so easily, Hvide boy? You think Norway will be ruled by a Dane?”
“No, my Lord, not quite. See, I have been doing my research, and no matter how you have tried, you have been unable to sire a male heir. Nor do you have any surviving brothers – Astrid is your only heir, and she will find it difficult to defeat her competition in claiming the throne simply by virtue of her gender. What I offer you is the support of the Hvide Clan in making her Queen, and I will not make any attempt to claim the Norwegian Throne. What I offer is a chance to ensure that your grandson will be known as King of Denmark and Norway.”
“King of Denmark?” Olaf scoffed. “You sound mighty confident of that, boy, yet your father helped put King Jens in charge, and he's done a fine job so far. What makes you think you will become the King of Denmark?”
“Deus Vult.” Harald retorted, grinning. “The Hvide are growing too powerful for the Knýtlings to ignore forever – sooner or later they will move against us. I will surely be in charge of the Clan by then, and when that battle comes, I will defeat the Knýtlings and take the Throne of Denmark for myself.”
“You're very confident of that, boy...” Olaf chuckled. “You've got a sack on you, I'll give you that, but what makes you so sure you will win?”
“I know Jens better than anyone else, he's a clever man, but he won't defeat me – he never could, and never will. The Knýtling and Hvide lands can produce similar amounts of men, but we have support from our allies in the Empire – and we want your support too. What's more, through my mother I have a legitimate and closer blood tie to the Danish Royalty than your own family. This is a chance to reunite Denmark and Norway and forge dominance over the North Sea. We have an opportunity to establish a Kingdom of power that has not been seen since our ancestor Cnut the Great conquered England.”
Olaf stared at him, a little sour-faced and apprehensive. “Why should I believe that you are honest with your intentions?”
“Why shouldn't you? With your support I can easily become King of Denmark, and with my support your daughter – my wife – will easily defeat her competition to become Queen of Norway. Our children will inherit both thrones and our two dynasties will go on, forever intertwined as the greatest men and women of the North. We both have much to gain and little to lose – unless you'd prefer one of your backwards, scheming cousins took the throne.”
Olaf's nose wrinkled even more, and Harald grinned, knowing he had hit a soft spot. He had done plenty of research about Olaf before coming here, and he knew his preparation would serve him well – he was winning this bout, so far.
“Harald Audensen, you are an audacious boy, but my girl has many suitors – what makes you think that you will be any more advantageous a son to me than the rest? There are many fine Norwegian men who would bring us great clout here.”
Princess Astrid Olafssdottir had many men interested in her beauty and especially her inheritance.
“Norwegian; Dane; does it really matter, your Majesty? We are all Norse, and proud to be such. We are not German, nor Saxon. At the end of the day, that is what matters most. If I must, I am prepared to prove myself in the face of your suitors. I in fact know that one of the most influential of them – a certain jarl by the name of Balder...he has done your family certain injustices, has he not?”
The King hissed in irritation. “What do you know of my affairs with Balder, boy?”
“Enough to know that you'd be quite happy if he were to die in a duel of honour, your Majesty.” Harald bowed again. “All I need is your help to arrange the situation to provoke the duel – if he were to meet his fate in battle, you would then have a fair excuse to make me her betrothed. How does that sound?”
Olaf closed his eyes and seemed to think about this for a long while. After nearly a minute of silence, Harald's impatience grew.
“Your Majesty?” He queried, wondering what Olaf was thinking.
“Alright.” Olaf sighed deeply. “Alright...I will agree to your terms. If you can make Balder reach his end, I will agree to your terms...but if you attempt to betray me at any point, I will make sure you regret it.”
Harald grinned from ear to ear and bowed again. “I promise you, you won't regret it.”
RGB: He attends the Knud Knýtling school of discipline.
As for Gro, in her own twisted mind what she did was the best for her son, even if to others it may seem completely insane.Ilyavania: She was a good schemer, but only the best can keep it up consequence free forever – and she was plotting on borrowed time as long as Cecilie knew what she was up to. If Auden hadn't banished her, then his successor probably would have. She'd just done too much to get away with it by that point.
General_BT: Despite the risks it has probably been good for Harald from a leadership point of view. He's been forced to live with constant challenge and threat ever since he was little – the biggest worry is how well-adjusted he'll turn out as a result, more than how competent he'll be under pressure. He's got a hell of a spirit though, and he's very proud and confident – for good reason, I think, after the trials he's faced at such a young age.
MikeOfTipton: Gro had to go sooner or later, one can only get away with so much. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and yes, I will definitely be continuing this in CK2. I've already got an outline of what everything is going to look like, I just need to start modding the day it comes out to get it ready in a reasonable amount of time.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 50 – Politics
22nd of January, 1086 Anno Domini
Harald paced nervously, his hands folded behind his back, his eyes narrowed. A thin, wispy beard was visible on his chin and jawline, and his face had begun to harden from that of a boy into that of a man. He was now sixteen years of age, a proud, strong adult, and his true responsibilities were before him – the Clan had expected him to leave immediately for the Baltic, but that had not been the case. Harald had other plans and using his money and clout he had ordered the ship to sail north. The sea was cold but had not frozen over this winter - he was confident the journey would be safely made.
Though the shores of Norway were intimidating to him – he had never been here after all – he and his guard had shown nothing but confidence and calm here in Oslo. Though the town was relatively new, it was one of the finest cultural centres in Scandinavia, and the people here seemed wealthy and happy. He understood Norwegian (although it sounded strange and alien to his ear), and again he felt strange at the shroud of mystery he entered in. Although some recognized his banner, few recognized this boy or knew he was, and when he requested an audience with King Olaf, his guards looked bemused at this strange young boy.
He was lucky, perhaps, that Olaf had been able to see him on such short notice, but now he had been left to wait for some two hours. Impatiently, he wandered back and forth, his heart rarely slowing as the stress and worry ate away at him. This was his first independent act of diplomacy, and he had no idea how it was going to go or what to expect. His face remained stone-cold and impassive even as the doors finally opened.
The Norwegian Chancellor was a tall, middle-aged blond man by the name of Ludvik, who regarded him with a sense of smug superiority. The Hvide Clan was well known throughout most of Northern and Central Europe due to their great success in the Baltic Crusades, but Harald was still little more than the unproven nephew of Skjalm Tokesen, and his uncle alone would not win him respect.
“Master Hvide.” The Chancellor bowed respectfully, but did not lower his eyes. “My Sovereign, His Majesty King Olaf III Haraldsson is prepared to speak with you – but I do ask that your company remain polite and of good company, else you shall find your warm welcome disappear before your very eyes.”
Harald bowed in return, and he did not avert his eyes either. “Thank you.” He said curtly, regarding the Chancellor with a scrutinizing eye. The Norwegian's lip twitched a little, and Harald couldn't help but give a wry grin – he was nervous, that at least was good for him. If his coming was cause for concern of any kind, it meant his name held clout still – even if this went badly, he at least would know he was respected in some way.
The young Hvide man entered the Hall, and found the King on his throne discussing something with one of his advisors. Seeing Harald, Olaf waved the advisor away, and although old now, his voice was still booming and powerful. “So, the Hvide whelp comes to my Hall, what ill dark news brings your Clan to my home?”
Harald lowered himself to one knee and cast his eyes down respectfully for the King, before responding in accented, albeit correct, Norwegian. “Your Majesty, I am here on personal business to discuss with you – we have brought for you a gift, to thank you for taking us into your hall, and as a show of friendship from Harald Audensson to Olaf Haraldsson.” The young man waved to one of his entourage, who held out what looked like a package of furs wrapping some kind of item.
A single eyebrow raised in curiousity and the King beckoned with one hand. “You may rise. What is your gift?”
Harald took the package and unwrapped it carefully, showing it to be the finest quality Russian bear fur, and inside it was an elegant blade. “Your Majesty, this fur cloak and blade were taken from Darius, the leader of the Lithuanian resistance. They are prized treasures of the Hvide Clan, symbols of our victory and dominance over the Balts. I now offer them to you.”
Olaf seemed surprised, but reached out and took them, admiring the fine craftsmanship. “This is quite a gift you offer me, Harald of Hvide. Has your father sent you as some kind of peace offering? I will not forget the slight he and his brother committed so easily.”
Harald shook his head. “No – my father does not know I am here, nor shall he if I have my way. My guards have sworn my visit to secrecy, for I come here to negotiate with you personally.”
The King leaned back in his throne. “I see. Your gift and your politeness have impressed me, Harald, but what do you expect to gain from this? Surely you have not simply come to Oslo to impress me, you must have some kind of motive.”
“Aye your Majesty, I do. I've come here to try and earn your daughter's hand in marriage.”
Olaf scoffed, a frown returning to his face. “You think you can up and inherit my throne so easily, Hvide boy? You think Norway will be ruled by a Dane?”
“No, my Lord, not quite. See, I have been doing my research, and no matter how you have tried, you have been unable to sire a male heir. Nor do you have any surviving brothers – Astrid is your only heir, and she will find it difficult to defeat her competition in claiming the throne simply by virtue of her gender. What I offer you is the support of the Hvide Clan in making her Queen, and I will not make any attempt to claim the Norwegian Throne. What I offer is a chance to ensure that your grandson will be known as King of Denmark and Norway.”
“King of Denmark?” Olaf scoffed. “You sound mighty confident of that, boy, yet your father helped put King Jens in charge, and he's done a fine job so far. What makes you think you will become the King of Denmark?”
“Deus Vult.” Harald retorted, grinning. “The Hvide are growing too powerful for the Knýtlings to ignore forever – sooner or later they will move against us. I will surely be in charge of the Clan by then, and when that battle comes, I will defeat the Knýtlings and take the Throne of Denmark for myself.”
“You're very confident of that, boy...” Olaf chuckled. “You've got a sack on you, I'll give you that, but what makes you so sure you will win?”
“I know Jens better than anyone else, he's a clever man, but he won't defeat me – he never could, and never will. The Knýtling and Hvide lands can produce similar amounts of men, but we have support from our allies in the Empire – and we want your support too. What's more, through my mother I have a legitimate and closer blood tie to the Danish Royalty than your own family. This is a chance to reunite Denmark and Norway and forge dominance over the North Sea. We have an opportunity to establish a Kingdom of power that has not been seen since our ancestor Cnut the Great conquered England.”
Olaf stared at him, a little sour-faced and apprehensive. “Why should I believe that you are honest with your intentions?”
“Why shouldn't you? With your support I can easily become King of Denmark, and with my support your daughter – my wife – will easily defeat her competition to become Queen of Norway. Our children will inherit both thrones and our two dynasties will go on, forever intertwined as the greatest men and women of the North. We both have much to gain and little to lose – unless you'd prefer one of your backwards, scheming cousins took the throne.”
Olaf's nose wrinkled even more, and Harald grinned, knowing he had hit a soft spot. He had done plenty of research about Olaf before coming here, and he knew his preparation would serve him well – he was winning this bout, so far.
“Harald Audensen, you are an audacious boy, but my girl has many suitors – what makes you think that you will be any more advantageous a son to me than the rest? There are many fine Norwegian men who would bring us great clout here.”
Princess Astrid Olafssdottir had many men interested in her beauty and especially her inheritance.
“Norwegian; Dane; does it really matter, your Majesty? We are all Norse, and proud to be such. We are not German, nor Saxon. At the end of the day, that is what matters most. If I must, I am prepared to prove myself in the face of your suitors. I in fact know that one of the most influential of them – a certain jarl by the name of Balder...he has done your family certain injustices, has he not?”
The King hissed in irritation. “What do you know of my affairs with Balder, boy?”
“Enough to know that you'd be quite happy if he were to die in a duel of honour, your Majesty.” Harald bowed again. “All I need is your help to arrange the situation to provoke the duel – if he were to meet his fate in battle, you would then have a fair excuse to make me her betrothed. How does that sound?”
Olaf closed his eyes and seemed to think about this for a long while. After nearly a minute of silence, Harald's impatience grew.
“Your Majesty?” He queried, wondering what Olaf was thinking.
“Alright.” Olaf sighed deeply. “Alright...I will agree to your terms. If you can make Balder reach his end, I will agree to your terms...but if you attempt to betray me at any point, I will make sure you regret it.”
Harald grinned from ear to ear and bowed again. “I promise you, you won't regret it.”
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That's a whole lot of risk-taking! First the sneaky voyage, then the diplomacy, then this duel that's coming up. Well, none can say Harald lacks for audacity.
Is Harald's last name Komnenos?
A daring scheme... the boy has a pair. I hope his fighting ability is as keen as his sense for intrigue...
A daring scheme... the boy has a pair. I hope his fighting ability is as keen as his sense for intrigue...
RGB: There's an old saying 'fortune favours the bold.' Let's hope for Harald's sake that it's true.
SplendidTuesday: Sneaky? Shameless? Maybe, but he's getting results!
General_BT: Are you really surprised, given how he was raised? Between his mother and his tutor, it'd be astonishing if he *wasn't* keenly aware of the finer points of intrigue. As for fighting ability...he's only 16, he's never been in a real fight before, so your guess is as good as anyone's. Not mine, I know how this ends.
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Chapter 51 – Love of the North Star
17th of February, 1086 Anno Domini
Harald slumped onto the floor in the silence of the night, a deep sigh escaping his lips. His breath coalesced into a white cloud before his very eyes, rolling through the air and dissipating into the wind. He rubbed at his jaw a little, trying to come to grips with the thoughts that plagued his young mind. It took him a few minutes to realize he was being watched, and the outline of a figure caught his eye.
Quickly standing, Harald reached for his sword defensively. "Who's there?"
A figure stepped out of the dark and Harald's eyes narrowed for a moment until he recognized the woman whose marriage he had earned. "Astrithr..." he whispered.
"I'm no Goddess, Harald." She replied to him in Danish. "You look unwell - were you badly hurt?"
"N-no, my lady." He released his sword and straightened his clothes self-consciously. "I was merely thinking, that's all."
Chuckling, she poked at the boy's bloodstained shirt and he winced. "Yet you were hurt nonetheless. How bad is it?"
"Not bad - I'm fine, in fact." He puffed himself up proudly. "You don't have to worry about that."
"Don't lie to me." She stated sharply and pulled the torn cloth obscuring his shoulder away, revealing the cloth wrappings. "His blade caught you dangerously close to your heart - had it been much deeper you could be in serious trouble."
"Yet I am fine - it was merely a flesh wound." He kept his face somber.
She shook her head as she pulled the cloth away carefully to examine the wound. "Was it easy for you, to kill the man who would make me his bride? Was it easy for you to slip your blade into him and watch the life spill from his veins?"
He swallowed and looked away, his eyes stone-cold but his lip quivering. Harald's thoughts were clearly troubling to him, but he seemed reluctant to speak of it.
"Are you afraid, knowing that you almost died?" She took his chin and turned it, forcing him to look at her. "You were awful foolish to rush into a fight like that - he was a veteran warrior and you just a boy - some things never change, you always were a troublemaker back then." She smiled at him.
"I wasn't afraid - I'm still not." He insisted, shaking his head and turning towards the wall. Sighing, he rested his hand against it and swallowed heavily. "I thought it would be easier to take a man's life - I don't mean the act, just..."
He felt her hand touch his back, and he turned, frowning at her. "I didn't know this man, I didn't care about him either way - I only fought him for..."
Harald paused, and turned towards her. "Well, I..."
"You fought for me?" She crossed her arms. "What makes you think I need to be fought for?"
"I did...but it wasn't because you needed defending." He cast his eyes downward. "I'm doing this because it's for the good of my family - my father won't live forever, I need allies, I need friends, I need..." Harald swallowed.
"A convenient wife?"
"It's not like that!" He shook his hands. "I l-..." He looked flustered. "Should you even be here? Your father didn't want me to see you."
"To hell with what my father thinks." She shoved him in the injured shoulder and his mouth gaped in pain and surprise.. "And you - you bastard - tell me what you think already!"
Harald held his shoulder protectively, frowning deeply. "Fine, you want to know why I fought? I could have courted any ally in the Baltic using my uncle's name, many more important than Norway. You're right, I'm not telling the truth - I fought because I wanted you. I love you, I have since I first saw you and I made up my mind who I would marry."
Astrithr pulled him close and planted a kiss on his lips briefly, before smirking a little wryly. "Come walk with me - my father's men might see us here. I want you to tell me about your fight..."
The afternoon was unseasonably warm, but still had a cold edge to it - Harald gritted his teeth and held the sword in his hand tightly. He paced, firmly gripping the scabbard and eyeing up his opponent on the opposite side of the clearing. The duel would be held in ceremonial fashion, and Harald was nervous - not because he feared death (although he acknowledged the possibility), but because he had not fought a serious opponent.
Balder Karlsson was a stern man with a powerful reputation from the Baltic Crusade. He owned a series of farming estates on the coast of Kurland and had rapidly grown in power. He was hoping to gain more power and influence in Norway. Balder had supposedly held the King himself under some kind of blackmail, although Harald was unable to gain any information on what. Eliminating this man would certainly put Harald in the King's good graces and strengthen their new alliance.
Harald Audensen gritted his teeth and drew his blade, cautiously approaching the ring of stones. Many of the men in attendance were high-ranking members of the Norwegian courts, and Harald could feel the pressure piling on him. The eldest of one of the north's most powerful and successful families and a Norwegian war hero clashed.
His opponent closed in, and Harald couldn't focus. He heard the lawspeaker's words, but his ears could only hear the whistle of wind through the trees. His eyes steeled and he could feel the sweat dripping down his face, neck and back - this man was a war hero, he had slain men in the heat of battle, and now Harald had to beat him. The two closed in and started one another in the eye. Although Harald was only sixteen years of age, he was considerably taller than his counterpart and equally well muscled.
"You may begin. May the better man win!"
Harald shifted from foot to foot, breathing heavily for a moment as he gained his composure. Balder on the other hand simply started to circle him, holding his blade in front of him. The two didn't clash for nearly a minute, when Balder darted forward and swung his blade. Harald quickly deflected the blow and offered a return strike, only for Balder to dodge it. The two circled one another again and then met in a clash of blades, neither able to get a decisive blow at the start. A single flash of steel later and Harald cried out as the tip of Balder's blade ripped through his tunic and tore open the skin.
Crying in pain, Harald clutched at his bleeding shoulder, but pulled back out of his opponent's reach. He flxed and tested the limb and found the cut was shallow - his muscles were still functioning, despite the dangerous wound. He danced backwards in surprise as Balder closed and swung again, forcing Harald to evade. He avoided two more blows, and then in a moment of fate, saw his opening. Closing in, Harald carefully locked the guard of his sword with his opponent's and twisted, wrenching the blades to one side. Balder struggled to fight with the larger Harald's strength, trying to free his sword from the lock without making himself more vulnerable.
Harald didn't wait for him to succeed or withdrew and instead thrust his knee into Balder's gut. Grabbing the jarl's wrist, Harald brought his knee up to smash his hand, knocking the sword free of Balder's grip. Following it up with an elbow, Harald barged his opponent backwards and Balder flailed helplessly as he tried to keep his balance. Harald's sword hand thrust forward instinctually - before he had even realized what he was doing, the sword's tip had pierced the jarl's heart, pushing through and out his back effortlessly.
He drew his sword back and the jarl fell worldlessly to the floor; his opponent had died instantly from the piercing strike. Harald looked at his redstained blade in shock as he realized that he had won. He had won the duel, so quickly the bloody affair was over before he had realized it...
Harald winced again as Astrithr tied the wound shut with the bandage, carefully knotting it with the fresh cloth. This cottage was small and isolated, and he wasn't sure exactly where it was, just that it 'belonged to a servant' in her house. "That's the whole story, there's not much more to say."
The young man could see her eyes straying across his chest, and he coughed a little. "I'm sorry, my lady, for my appearance - and for the state you found me in."
"Shhh." She gently pushed him to sit on the cot. "No more talking, Harald. You leave in the morning, do you not?"
"Aye, my lady..."
"Tonight is the full moon, and the bleeding started lastnight..."
Harald blinked. "B-bleeding?"
"I might not have a chance like this ever again, with you off to the wars..." she said, staring at him. Before he could reply, she forcibly pulled him close and kissed him. Harald had no response but to kiss her back as they found themselves alone in the night with all the time in the world...
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
25th of April, 1086 Anno Domini
Harald sniffed at the air, standing tall and proud upon the seashore as the winds carried over them. The trip had been lively and eventful, and his number of ships and men had grown in size both in Oslo and at the layover in Halmstad. He was late, but he didn't care - his father would understand when he arrived - his brief stop in Riga told him he had marched to do battle against an Estonian force on the north coast, and now Harald was here to search for him.
"Harald!"
The young Hvide looked to his second-in-command and personal bodyguard, Sten Kristensen, and grinned. "Sten, what news?"
"One of the locals says your father was in this village just three days prior - he marched eastwards, to do battle with the Estonians. They say he's outnumbered by the Balts, as too much of his army was left to rest in Riga."
"Outnumbered, you say?" Harald frowned. "Surprising, the old man's usually more perceptive than that."
"Aye, but he's got a fantastically well equipped army, and the Balts are little more than rabble!"
"Rabble who took most of Novgorod's heartland, Sten. We shouldn't underestimate them. Spread the word - I want the men ready to march in half an hour. We're going after my father - have the ships return to Riga with half our supplies, reload, and then sail back down the coast to feed us. We're going to have to move quick to catch up, and the more food we have to haul the longer this is going to take."
Sten bowed. "As you command, it shall be done."
Harald turned and looked to the crowds of armoured men disembarking from the ships - Norwegian and Swedish mercenaries, mainly, but a substantial number of Danish leidang and his own personal huskarls. Although his father had not requested it, he had scraped together funding and come to Estonia with a small army of his own.
"Let's hope they're ready for a fight...I've got a feeling this is going to get messy." Harald grinned as thoughts of his first battle reached him. "I'm looking forward to it..."
SplendidTuesday: Sneaky? Shameless? Maybe, but he's getting results!
General_BT: Are you really surprised, given how he was raised? Between his mother and his tutor, it'd be astonishing if he *wasn't* keenly aware of the finer points of intrigue. As for fighting ability...he's only 16, he's never been in a real fight before, so your guess is as good as anyone's. Not mine, I know how this ends.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 51 – Love of the North Star
17th of February, 1086 Anno Domini
Harald slumped onto the floor in the silence of the night, a deep sigh escaping his lips. His breath coalesced into a white cloud before his very eyes, rolling through the air and dissipating into the wind. He rubbed at his jaw a little, trying to come to grips with the thoughts that plagued his young mind. It took him a few minutes to realize he was being watched, and the outline of a figure caught his eye.
Quickly standing, Harald reached for his sword defensively. "Who's there?"
A figure stepped out of the dark and Harald's eyes narrowed for a moment until he recognized the woman whose marriage he had earned. "Astrithr..." he whispered.
"I'm no Goddess, Harald." She replied to him in Danish. "You look unwell - were you badly hurt?"
"N-no, my lady." He released his sword and straightened his clothes self-consciously. "I was merely thinking, that's all."
Chuckling, she poked at the boy's bloodstained shirt and he winced. "Yet you were hurt nonetheless. How bad is it?"
"Not bad - I'm fine, in fact." He puffed himself up proudly. "You don't have to worry about that."
"Don't lie to me." She stated sharply and pulled the torn cloth obscuring his shoulder away, revealing the cloth wrappings. "His blade caught you dangerously close to your heart - had it been much deeper you could be in serious trouble."
"Yet I am fine - it was merely a flesh wound." He kept his face somber.
She shook her head as she pulled the cloth away carefully to examine the wound. "Was it easy for you, to kill the man who would make me his bride? Was it easy for you to slip your blade into him and watch the life spill from his veins?"
He swallowed and looked away, his eyes stone-cold but his lip quivering. Harald's thoughts were clearly troubling to him, but he seemed reluctant to speak of it.
"Are you afraid, knowing that you almost died?" She took his chin and turned it, forcing him to look at her. "You were awful foolish to rush into a fight like that - he was a veteran warrior and you just a boy - some things never change, you always were a troublemaker back then." She smiled at him.
"I wasn't afraid - I'm still not." He insisted, shaking his head and turning towards the wall. Sighing, he rested his hand against it and swallowed heavily. "I thought it would be easier to take a man's life - I don't mean the act, just..."
He felt her hand touch his back, and he turned, frowning at her. "I didn't know this man, I didn't care about him either way - I only fought him for..."
Harald paused, and turned towards her. "Well, I..."
"You fought for me?" She crossed her arms. "What makes you think I need to be fought for?"
"I did...but it wasn't because you needed defending." He cast his eyes downward. "I'm doing this because it's for the good of my family - my father won't live forever, I need allies, I need friends, I need..." Harald swallowed.
"A convenient wife?"
"It's not like that!" He shook his hands. "I l-..." He looked flustered. "Should you even be here? Your father didn't want me to see you."
"To hell with what my father thinks." She shoved him in the injured shoulder and his mouth gaped in pain and surprise.. "And you - you bastard - tell me what you think already!"
Harald held his shoulder protectively, frowning deeply. "Fine, you want to know why I fought? I could have courted any ally in the Baltic using my uncle's name, many more important than Norway. You're right, I'm not telling the truth - I fought because I wanted you. I love you, I have since I first saw you and I made up my mind who I would marry."
Astrithr pulled him close and planted a kiss on his lips briefly, before smirking a little wryly. "Come walk with me - my father's men might see us here. I want you to tell me about your fight..."
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
The afternoon was unseasonably warm, but still had a cold edge to it - Harald gritted his teeth and held the sword in his hand tightly. He paced, firmly gripping the scabbard and eyeing up his opponent on the opposite side of the clearing. The duel would be held in ceremonial fashion, and Harald was nervous - not because he feared death (although he acknowledged the possibility), but because he had not fought a serious opponent.
Balder Karlsson was a stern man with a powerful reputation from the Baltic Crusade. He owned a series of farming estates on the coast of Kurland and had rapidly grown in power. He was hoping to gain more power and influence in Norway. Balder had supposedly held the King himself under some kind of blackmail, although Harald was unable to gain any information on what. Eliminating this man would certainly put Harald in the King's good graces and strengthen their new alliance.
Harald Audensen gritted his teeth and drew his blade, cautiously approaching the ring of stones. Many of the men in attendance were high-ranking members of the Norwegian courts, and Harald could feel the pressure piling on him. The eldest of one of the north's most powerful and successful families and a Norwegian war hero clashed.
His opponent closed in, and Harald couldn't focus. He heard the lawspeaker's words, but his ears could only hear the whistle of wind through the trees. His eyes steeled and he could feel the sweat dripping down his face, neck and back - this man was a war hero, he had slain men in the heat of battle, and now Harald had to beat him. The two closed in and started one another in the eye. Although Harald was only sixteen years of age, he was considerably taller than his counterpart and equally well muscled.
"You may begin. May the better man win!"
Harald shifted from foot to foot, breathing heavily for a moment as he gained his composure. Balder on the other hand simply started to circle him, holding his blade in front of him. The two didn't clash for nearly a minute, when Balder darted forward and swung his blade. Harald quickly deflected the blow and offered a return strike, only for Balder to dodge it. The two circled one another again and then met in a clash of blades, neither able to get a decisive blow at the start. A single flash of steel later and Harald cried out as the tip of Balder's blade ripped through his tunic and tore open the skin.
Crying in pain, Harald clutched at his bleeding shoulder, but pulled back out of his opponent's reach. He flxed and tested the limb and found the cut was shallow - his muscles were still functioning, despite the dangerous wound. He danced backwards in surprise as Balder closed and swung again, forcing Harald to evade. He avoided two more blows, and then in a moment of fate, saw his opening. Closing in, Harald carefully locked the guard of his sword with his opponent's and twisted, wrenching the blades to one side. Balder struggled to fight with the larger Harald's strength, trying to free his sword from the lock without making himself more vulnerable.
Harald didn't wait for him to succeed or withdrew and instead thrust his knee into Balder's gut. Grabbing the jarl's wrist, Harald brought his knee up to smash his hand, knocking the sword free of Balder's grip. Following it up with an elbow, Harald barged his opponent backwards and Balder flailed helplessly as he tried to keep his balance. Harald's sword hand thrust forward instinctually - before he had even realized what he was doing, the sword's tip had pierced the jarl's heart, pushing through and out his back effortlessly.
He drew his sword back and the jarl fell worldlessly to the floor; his opponent had died instantly from the piercing strike. Harald looked at his redstained blade in shock as he realized that he had won. He had won the duel, so quickly the bloody affair was over before he had realized it...
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Harald winced again as Astrithr tied the wound shut with the bandage, carefully knotting it with the fresh cloth. This cottage was small and isolated, and he wasn't sure exactly where it was, just that it 'belonged to a servant' in her house. "That's the whole story, there's not much more to say."
The young man could see her eyes straying across his chest, and he coughed a little. "I'm sorry, my lady, for my appearance - and for the state you found me in."
"Shhh." She gently pushed him to sit on the cot. "No more talking, Harald. You leave in the morning, do you not?"
"Aye, my lady..."
"Tonight is the full moon, and the bleeding started lastnight..."
Harald blinked. "B-bleeding?"
"I might not have a chance like this ever again, with you off to the wars..." she said, staring at him. Before he could reply, she forcibly pulled him close and kissed him. Harald had no response but to kiss her back as they found themselves alone in the night with all the time in the world...
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
25th of April, 1086 Anno Domini
Harald sniffed at the air, standing tall and proud upon the seashore as the winds carried over them. The trip had been lively and eventful, and his number of ships and men had grown in size both in Oslo and at the layover in Halmstad. He was late, but he didn't care - his father would understand when he arrived - his brief stop in Riga told him he had marched to do battle against an Estonian force on the north coast, and now Harald was here to search for him.
"Harald!"
The young Hvide looked to his second-in-command and personal bodyguard, Sten Kristensen, and grinned. "Sten, what news?"
"One of the locals says your father was in this village just three days prior - he marched eastwards, to do battle with the Estonians. They say he's outnumbered by the Balts, as too much of his army was left to rest in Riga."
"Outnumbered, you say?" Harald frowned. "Surprising, the old man's usually more perceptive than that."
"Aye, but he's got a fantastically well equipped army, and the Balts are little more than rabble!"
"Rabble who took most of Novgorod's heartland, Sten. We shouldn't underestimate them. Spread the word - I want the men ready to march in half an hour. We're going after my father - have the ships return to Riga with half our supplies, reload, and then sail back down the coast to feed us. We're going to have to move quick to catch up, and the more food we have to haul the longer this is going to take."
Sten bowed. "As you command, it shall be done."
Harald turned and looked to the crowds of armoured men disembarking from the ships - Norwegian and Swedish mercenaries, mainly, but a substantial number of Danish leidang and his own personal huskarls. Although his father had not requested it, he had scraped together funding and come to Estonia with a small army of his own.
"Let's hope they're ready for a fight...I've got a feeling this is going to get messy." Harald grinned as thoughts of his first battle reached him. "I'm looking forward to it..."
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Clearly, in love and war dispatches from the front are all, I believe him, he was there etc.
The king must have really wanted the guy dead if he let the duel go to its end like that. Also, Astrid is certainly no Sleeping Beauty, which is good, Harald cannot be everywhere at once.
The king must have really wanted the guy dead if he let the duel go to its end like that. Also, Astrid is certainly no Sleeping Beauty, which is good, Harald cannot be everywhere at once.
Hawt. Nice to see the beautiful girl also has a will of her own. Harald is getting ever more badass, and with the wars coming up, I'm sure he'll become a hero and a legend.
Great writing again, it's always a pleasure to read this.
Great writing again, it's always a pleasure to read this.
Well, inexperience is certainly showing in the way Harald is handling the situation - he's made little attempt to confirm the information he's gotten. A woman's hand isn't typically enough to kill a man in cold blood over, but who knows what Balder was up to!
She's very intelligent and driven (not to mention wealthy and the blood heiress to the throne), so I'd be remiss to not show her with a strong will. Harald's very talented - if he doesn't make any stupid mistakes and die young, he could go far.
I'm glad you enjoyed it. :3
Right, I've got approximately 4 more updates (I think) after this one, and not much time to finish it in! Engage super-writing mode!
lordofdeath: Thanks.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 52 – Laagri Village
22nd of February, 1086 Anno Domini
It took almost two days for Harald to realize that something was wrong. Somehow, he perservered for another two before he ordered the formation to halt. There was still no sign of his father's army, nor even that any army had passed through this area recently. Either the reports had been mistaken, or worse...they were being deliberately deceived.
On the fifth day, his army turned back. Harald saw no sign of his father's army and suspected ambush. Rather than hug the coastline as he had, he moved deeper inland, where his army could not be forced into the water, and his army had made it the better part of the evening without being spotted. In the evening, Harald's army found itself entering a small, unimportant vale somewhere along the Estonian north coast.
“We stay here for the night!” Harald called to the men. His troops rapidly dispersed through the small village.
“I don't like it, Harald.” Sten said quietly. “There's been no sign or soul of anything but these tiny villages since we got here.”
Harald calmly took a swig of water from his skin, then wiped at his mouth. “It's likely an ambush, Sten. We've probably been lured here by some kind of Baltic plot to eliminate our forces piecemeal. It's what I'd do, in their situation.”
“Then where is your father if not here?”
“Who knows – maybe he really did sail this way, but turned back before arriving for some reason. It does not change the fact that we must be ready for battle at a moment's notice. The Estonians are fearsome warriors, they defeated Novgorod and sacked much of her hinterland.” Harald looked around, frowning a little at the sounds of unhappy villagers forced to accept the occupancy of his soldiers. “The men are acting like rabble; tell them to sharpen up, this village is not safety. I want sentries on the main path, and on the passage to our south.”
“Aye m'lord.” Sten bowed and began to shout orders, but Harald's eyes already turned to the defence of the village.
He had a bad feeling, and had chosen the valley as their final rest due to its defensive qualities. The village was nestled into the side of a valley between a few small, gently sloping hills. The hills flanking her were were defensively chosen with two steep cliffsides and a narrow ravine. Whether the enemy came from ahead or from the ravine, they would be walking headfirst into a fortified position.
Harald looked to the one raised position in the village: a raised wooden dais of some kind in the central clearing of the village. Carefully, he climbed up onto it, testing the wood for a moment before feeling confident enough to stand on it fully. He almost had a perfect view of the valley from here, able to gaze down the path between the houses.
He took in the surroundings, breathing deep the evening air – the Baltic was an eerie, yet beautiful place. Grain grew in the fields of the valley, painting it a golden colour tinged orange from the sunset behind him. The enemy would be unlikely to attack from the east until dusk came, and they would be reluctant to attack from the west unless it was early or late, lest the sun blind them on the assault into the village.
“M'lord!” One of his huskarls called. “The scouts have returned from Tallinn!”
Harald turned and saw the two swift riders dismount, their horses being quickly lead away. He noted their thick black hair and round nose, and instantly pegged them as slavs, probably Vends. The Clan had made increasing use of Vendish horsemen in their campaign, and the Vends had been all too happy to take advantage of the excellent pay that the Hvide had offered them.
“What news, men?” Harald requested.
The Vends looked to each other and then nodded. “It's not good, m'lord. A large army is marching west from Tallinn, under an Estonian banner. At their pace they will reach this valley in a matter of hours.”
“I feared as much.” Harald sighed, rubbing at his brow. “Did you get a headcount?”
“Only a rough one, I believe they may have as much as fifteen hundreds of men. They looked swift and lightly armed, and many brought horses.”
Harald paced thoughtfully, still rubbing at his brow. Fifteen hundred, and he had brought merely nine hundred men in all. He contemplated for a moment attempting a retreat to the coastline, but he dismissed the idea almost instantly. His men were tired from the long march, and Scandinavian soldiers were slow due to the weight of their arms. The balts would easily catch his force while on the move and encircle them, ending their chances of a victory.
“You have done well, men.” Harald untied the other skin from his belt – this one was of wine – and threw it to the Vends as a reward. “You can share this, and take the next couple of hours we have to rest and recuperate. Be ready when the time for battle comes. You are dismissed.”
The Vends popped the skin and took a smell, then grinned. “Yes, m'lord. Thank you, m'lord!” They eagerly scurried off to enjoy the fruits of their labours.
Harald almost regretted letting his wine go, but he reassured himself that there would be more. The men deserved to know that rewards waited for those who performed to a degree of excellence. Rewards bought loyalty and morale, and both were essential to an army in service of him.
“Sten!” Harald shouted to his aide. “Sten, gather the men around this centre, I must speak to the men!”
Any commander could tell the troops were disgruntled to have to shift from their positions as most were beginning to settle down for the night. Morale had already taken a blow from marching one way and then straight back again, but they needed to know what was coming before it arrived. There was little time to prepare and Harald was not going to enter this battle without preparations. He waited until the men had fully arranged themselves around the dais, walking around a moment to look at his gathered, weary troops.
“My friends, my warriors, you have followed me on a long voyage to this desolate, empty land. You have marched long and hard with me in search of my father, that we might join his Crusade against the Estonians; but it is we who have together marched for nothing. The Estonians have deceived us, and led us to this place because they wish to destroy us.”
There were murmurs and disgruntled sounds throughout the camp. Harald raised his hands for quiet, and looked across the worried faces of the men.
“But the enemy does not expect one thing – they did not expect me to realize this was true! We are men of the North, we are the mightiest warriors the world has ever seen – would you have us simply give up, or tuck our tail between our legs? Flee home and – if we should somehow manage to outrun them – allow the world to hear how we cowered before the Balts?”
The men erupted a chorus of negative responses almost immediately.
Harald flashed a broad, winning smile at the crowd. “I tell you right now that we will hold our ground and slaughter every last easterner who dares try to cross into this village, the village we have made our home for this night. They will come like waves and they shall crash upon our shields, our spears, our swords, until they must climb over their own dead to reach us, and even then we shall slay them all the more. Only when none of them are left to come at us shall our weapons be lowered, for they shall not know the taste of victory here, over such men as glorious as you!”
The men erupted in bloodthirsty cheers and shouts of encouragement.
Harald turned to Sten. “We shall take what time we have, scavenge together wood, the supply carts, and spare spears. Prepare wooden stakes. Once night begins to fall, we will assemble barricades at the entrances of the village. Prepare campfires and use the blankets to prop up false figures of ourselves. Prepare every man for battle, have them remain hidden in the darkness.”
The veteran huskarl shook his head. “You think that will fool them?”
“For a time, maybe. At least enough to lure part of their army out. There's more though...when you're distributing the orders, there's one more thing I want you to do...”
lordofdeath: Thanks.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 52 – Laagri Village
22nd of February, 1086 Anno Domini
It took almost two days for Harald to realize that something was wrong. Somehow, he perservered for another two before he ordered the formation to halt. There was still no sign of his father's army, nor even that any army had passed through this area recently. Either the reports had been mistaken, or worse...they were being deliberately deceived.
On the fifth day, his army turned back. Harald saw no sign of his father's army and suspected ambush. Rather than hug the coastline as he had, he moved deeper inland, where his army could not be forced into the water, and his army had made it the better part of the evening without being spotted. In the evening, Harald's army found itself entering a small, unimportant vale somewhere along the Estonian north coast.
“We stay here for the night!” Harald called to the men. His troops rapidly dispersed through the small village.
“I don't like it, Harald.” Sten said quietly. “There's been no sign or soul of anything but these tiny villages since we got here.”
Harald calmly took a swig of water from his skin, then wiped at his mouth. “It's likely an ambush, Sten. We've probably been lured here by some kind of Baltic plot to eliminate our forces piecemeal. It's what I'd do, in their situation.”
“Then where is your father if not here?”
“Who knows – maybe he really did sail this way, but turned back before arriving for some reason. It does not change the fact that we must be ready for battle at a moment's notice. The Estonians are fearsome warriors, they defeated Novgorod and sacked much of her hinterland.” Harald looked around, frowning a little at the sounds of unhappy villagers forced to accept the occupancy of his soldiers. “The men are acting like rabble; tell them to sharpen up, this village is not safety. I want sentries on the main path, and on the passage to our south.”
“Aye m'lord.” Sten bowed and began to shout orders, but Harald's eyes already turned to the defence of the village.
He had a bad feeling, and had chosen the valley as their final rest due to its defensive qualities. The village was nestled into the side of a valley between a few small, gently sloping hills. The hills flanking her were were defensively chosen with two steep cliffsides and a narrow ravine. Whether the enemy came from ahead or from the ravine, they would be walking headfirst into a fortified position.
Harald looked to the one raised position in the village: a raised wooden dais of some kind in the central clearing of the village. Carefully, he climbed up onto it, testing the wood for a moment before feeling confident enough to stand on it fully. He almost had a perfect view of the valley from here, able to gaze down the path between the houses.
He took in the surroundings, breathing deep the evening air – the Baltic was an eerie, yet beautiful place. Grain grew in the fields of the valley, painting it a golden colour tinged orange from the sunset behind him. The enemy would be unlikely to attack from the east until dusk came, and they would be reluctant to attack from the west unless it was early or late, lest the sun blind them on the assault into the village.
“M'lord!” One of his huskarls called. “The scouts have returned from Tallinn!”
Harald turned and saw the two swift riders dismount, their horses being quickly lead away. He noted their thick black hair and round nose, and instantly pegged them as slavs, probably Vends. The Clan had made increasing use of Vendish horsemen in their campaign, and the Vends had been all too happy to take advantage of the excellent pay that the Hvide had offered them.
“What news, men?” Harald requested.
The Vends looked to each other and then nodded. “It's not good, m'lord. A large army is marching west from Tallinn, under an Estonian banner. At their pace they will reach this valley in a matter of hours.”
“I feared as much.” Harald sighed, rubbing at his brow. “Did you get a headcount?”
“Only a rough one, I believe they may have as much as fifteen hundreds of men. They looked swift and lightly armed, and many brought horses.”
Harald paced thoughtfully, still rubbing at his brow. Fifteen hundred, and he had brought merely nine hundred men in all. He contemplated for a moment attempting a retreat to the coastline, but he dismissed the idea almost instantly. His men were tired from the long march, and Scandinavian soldiers were slow due to the weight of their arms. The balts would easily catch his force while on the move and encircle them, ending their chances of a victory.
“You have done well, men.” Harald untied the other skin from his belt – this one was of wine – and threw it to the Vends as a reward. “You can share this, and take the next couple of hours we have to rest and recuperate. Be ready when the time for battle comes. You are dismissed.”
The Vends popped the skin and took a smell, then grinned. “Yes, m'lord. Thank you, m'lord!” They eagerly scurried off to enjoy the fruits of their labours.
Harald almost regretted letting his wine go, but he reassured himself that there would be more. The men deserved to know that rewards waited for those who performed to a degree of excellence. Rewards bought loyalty and morale, and both were essential to an army in service of him.
“Sten!” Harald shouted to his aide. “Sten, gather the men around this centre, I must speak to the men!”
Any commander could tell the troops were disgruntled to have to shift from their positions as most were beginning to settle down for the night. Morale had already taken a blow from marching one way and then straight back again, but they needed to know what was coming before it arrived. There was little time to prepare and Harald was not going to enter this battle without preparations. He waited until the men had fully arranged themselves around the dais, walking around a moment to look at his gathered, weary troops.
“My friends, my warriors, you have followed me on a long voyage to this desolate, empty land. You have marched long and hard with me in search of my father, that we might join his Crusade against the Estonians; but it is we who have together marched for nothing. The Estonians have deceived us, and led us to this place because they wish to destroy us.”
There were murmurs and disgruntled sounds throughout the camp. Harald raised his hands for quiet, and looked across the worried faces of the men.
“But the enemy does not expect one thing – they did not expect me to realize this was true! We are men of the North, we are the mightiest warriors the world has ever seen – would you have us simply give up, or tuck our tail between our legs? Flee home and – if we should somehow manage to outrun them – allow the world to hear how we cowered before the Balts?”
The men erupted a chorus of negative responses almost immediately.
Harald flashed a broad, winning smile at the crowd. “I tell you right now that we will hold our ground and slaughter every last easterner who dares try to cross into this village, the village we have made our home for this night. They will come like waves and they shall crash upon our shields, our spears, our swords, until they must climb over their own dead to reach us, and even then we shall slay them all the more. Only when none of them are left to come at us shall our weapons be lowered, for they shall not know the taste of victory here, over such men as glorious as you!”
The men erupted in bloodthirsty cheers and shouts of encouragement.
Harald turned to Sten. “We shall take what time we have, scavenge together wood, the supply carts, and spare spears. Prepare wooden stakes. Once night begins to fall, we will assemble barricades at the entrances of the village. Prepare campfires and use the blankets to prop up false figures of ourselves. Prepare every man for battle, have them remain hidden in the darkness.”
The veteran huskarl shook his head. “You think that will fool them?”
“For a time, maybe. At least enough to lure part of their army out. There's more though...when you're distributing the orders, there's one more thing I want you to do...”
Tallinn, that's kinda interesting, since it had foreign names through most of its history. I guess the Est resurgence prompted the renaming. It literally means Dane-burg. Raavali or Kalevan or Lindiness are all equally likely. The place has enough names to spare for a half-dozen towns.
Harald is clearly plotting something else, but does he have time to pull it off? Glorious battle awaits!
Harald is clearly plotting something else, but does he have time to pull it off? Glorious battle awaits!
Should I say it again, or not.... Oh, why not. Harald is awesome :3
His speech instantly made me think of the fight between the Spartans and the Persians at Thermopylae, and, I almost dare not say it, 300 (don't hit me!). Be that as it may, Harald is a great leader, if 900 men listen to him at his age. I too wonder what he's plotting besides the barricades and decoys...
His speech instantly made me think of the fight between the Spartans and the Persians at Thermopylae, and, I almost dare not say it, 300 (don't hit me!
). Be that as it may, Harald is a great leader, if 900 men listen to him at his age. I too wonder what he's plotting besides the barricades and decoys...