Viking Axe Bracelet
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
This was the most beautiful item in his father’s collection. It had been given to him by Ragnar Lodbrok, a famous Viking raider who had taken King Eirik back as a slave after raiding Paris and other towns on the western coast of France.
Eirik was still not entirely sure how it all happened but he knew that he would never have seen his son again if Ragnar hadn’t taken him away. He was also glad that the raid had ended in failure for they were now friends with their new ally and king.
The Viking Axe Bracelet belonged to Bjorn Ironsides, a famous Viking hero known throughout Europe and even beyond. He was famed for being one of the few to kill the legendary Frankish warrior Count Louis.
He was also responsible for freeing Queen Yngvar from the clutches of a witch queen who ruled over Scotland from her lair high atop a mountain. But he was best known among Vikings for killing his way across Europe to finally claim his own kingdom in Norway. The bracelet was made of bronze and silver and contained an axe head, which he always wore at his side when he fought.
It would be lost soon enough and that would be sad for Eirik could remember holding it close to his heart many times before. Yet the memories did not trouble him because those days were long behind him and he was happy with what he had achieved since then.
Even so, the old feelings returned every time he thought about that day. If only he were still a young man like his sons now. They would fight well and defend their land just as they should. As it was though, he would have to protect them himself.
He turned his attention back to the box and opened it up. Inside lay a small leather pouch that held his wife’s hair. Her hair? Yes, she had cut off her locks and placed them within this small bag. She had done it after giving birth to Sigurd, her first child.
She had wanted to give something back to her mother and grandmothers and hoped they might take some comfort in knowing that the women who had birthed their daughters were still part of their lives.
“Why do you hide these things?” his son asked. “Are you ashamed of them? Or perhaps worried about theft?”
Eirik shook his head sadly. “Not really,” he answered. “I keep these tokens as a reminder of my failures.”
His sons looked surprised by such a statement but Eirik smiled. “No, I don’t mean in a bad sense. Those are not my failures. No, I speak of the fact that no matter how hard I try, there is nothing I can give you two that will match your mother’s or grandmothers. Not unless we find your wives someday and give you children of our own.”
Both boys stared at him, then nodded. His oldest brother Thorvardr had married but he never seemed satisfied with his choice and left her before his second child was born. A few years later he met another woman and took her back.
By all accounts, it had been a happier union but his sons’ mother, Jofrid, was the same age as him. Both she and her daughter Gyda had passed away last year. The boy’s father, Gunnar, had also died while fighting for King Harald of Norway in Sweden.
“But what if we don’t find anyone and you die alone here?” Sigurd asked. Eirik was reminded of his brother’s words often these days.
“What do you think, Bjorn?” Eirik asked and turned to his younger son. “Would you rather be an old man living in this house surrounded by these items and know that you did nothing more than raise your own family?”
Bjorn nodded eagerly and said, “Yes! Of course, I would!”
Eirik smiled proudly but his smile faded as his mind returned to a different time in history.
During the reign of King Olav Ragnarson, he and a handful of others formed a secret group called the Brotherhood of Death. They fought to protect those of royal blood, especially women and children. For the most part, they were successful.
There were only a few incidents where the brothers had to face the consequences of their actions. Their leader was the legendary Skar and his death came when he led a raid against the Franks. They succeeded in taking Paris but they had to flee when King Charles ordered them killed.
Skar did not return and his death was blamed on other members of the Brotherhood. Many men fled and disappeared into their lands, never to be seen again. Others were found dead and their deaths were chalked up to natural causes. Only a few remained and they went into hiding in France until the threat was gone.
Now, Eirik’s own fate was in danger too. His brothers were loyal to his cause but would they stay loyal forever? And if they were betrayed, then what of the future of his line?
He reached out and picked up the silver ring. It bore the insignia of a crown and was shaped like a dragon. His grandfather had given it to him upon his coronation as king of Norway. Now, he would pass it along to the next prince.
If there were any left, he thought.
***
The sun hung low over the forest and birdsong echoed from the surrounding trees. The sounds were almost overwhelming compared to the silence that usually accompanied hunting season for the Norsemen. But that was why the men of the Brotherhood of Death had come to this place. The hunt was for a traitor.
They’d spent the morning tracking the man through the forest. He was not a skilled tracker and the men had followed him easily but when they caught him, their task had become much harder.
“How can it be so easy to follow someone but so difficult to capture them?” Sigurd grumbled, pulling on a boot as he spoke.
“This is a good sign, Sigurd,” Bjorn replied, tugging on a boot of his own. “It means he is either very smart or has friends who have protected him.”
Sigurd grunted and continued to dress. He had been chosen as their leader for many reasons, but his lack of fear made him an excellent choice. He always believed in the Brotherhood’s mission but even more so now that Einar had joined them. He would have taken the risk of betraying his country if he knew he could save the people he loved most: his mother, sister, and cousins.
Eirik had not been pleased that his son’s loyalty was still divided. When Sigurd returned home after his first mission he told his father, “We may win today’s battle, Father, but we lose the war because our enemy is everywhere. We must fight against him instead of each other. That way we will defeat the Franks and the rest of our enemies.”
That night, Eirik had gathered all the sons of King Harald, including Sigurd, and warned them that the Brotherhood of Death was their only hope. If they failed, the kingdom of Norway would fall apart and the Franks would rule.
And it was true. The Frankish King Louis de Roumois had already conquered all of the western countries and threatened Norway. In fact, he was expected in Norway at any moment.
King Harald was young but ambitious and determined to hold onto his land. His army was larger than anyone else’s and he had the backing of the powerful men in Frankia. But he needed help from Norway and he would need it soon. Otherwise, Einar believed that the Franks would be able to conquer his country in two years.
So, Sigurd had been sent with three other men to spy on King Harald. To gather information. And to report back.
But he and his companions had been betrayed. Einar had been captured while traveling alone through the forest and Sigurd had arrived too late to rescue him. The Franks had killed the other three men without mercy.
The only thing that made up for the loss of life, was that Einar had managed to get word to his brother-in-law, Eirik. A week later, Sigurd and his brothers set off for Oslo to begin their new lives fighting for the Kingdom of Norway. They swore to protect it until their last breath.
They did not expect that day to come so soon, though.
“There he goes again,” Bjorn said, pointing ahead of them to the right side of the trail where a tall tree stood on a slight rise. There was a man standing by it watching their progress.
“Let’s go talk to him,” Sigurd said and the others nodded. They were used to this sort of thing. After all, this was how they’d met most of their enemies in the past few months. They walked up behind him and he turned around. He was young and blond and handsome enough that Sigurd was sure he had never seen battle. “Good evening, sir,” he greeted the man politely.
He looked about eighteen and he wore a simple tunic under a cloak. He stared straight at Sigurd but his eyes flicked to Bjorn and Ragnar and back to Sigurd again before continuing. “You seem troubled, Brother,” he said. “Perhaps I can offer you some advice. You are walking into a trap.”
Sigurd frowned. “Is there a trap?”
The man shook his head and his expression remained flat. “No, no. Not a trap,” he said. “I just mean that King Harald is looking for spies.”
As one of Harald’s spies, Sigurd should know but his attention was diverted by another sound. Something like a bird call. But nothing like a bird ever made that noise, Sigurd thought. It sounded like something else entirely.
His gaze snapped down at the ground but his feet stopped moving. Then he was yanked off course and thrown to the ground with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. His vision blurred as the air rushed out of his body and a hand covered his mouth to keep him quiet. “Don’t move,” a voice whispered in his ear.
Someone grabbed the back of his jerkin, pinning him against a tree and cutting off his circulation. The pressure was unbearable, yet Sigurd felt calm. He had been prepared for such an attack.
“What are you doing? Where did you come from?” Sigurd gasped as his eyes found the figure above him and he realized who it was. “Einar! Are you—”
“Shhh,” Einar said. “Just shut up. This is going to be quick.”
A short knife appeared in Einar’s fist. “This won’t take long,” he continued in a whisper, “but your death will last forever.”
The End