Page 55 of Her Rogue Viking
“It is a two-day journey each way.”
“Four days then.”
“At best.”
“He will not be in time.”
Ulfric did not answer. His grim countenance spoke for him.
“Viking,how many thralls do you have?”
“Thralls? What does that have to do with anything?” Ulfric had been assembling his men in the middle of the settlement in readiness to defend their homes but he turned to answer Fiona’s question. “I have offered as many as it might take in recompense for the losses for which Olaf holds me accountable but he is not interested.”
“I do not mean you to barter with them. You should free them and have them fight alongside your men.”
“Slaves? Against trained Vikings, men armed to the teeth and set on killing all before them? They would be slaughtered.”
“Not necessarily. They would be of little use, I agree, in hand-to-hand fighting, but it may not come to that. You know that I managed to best those who attacked us at the lake, and I did it from a distance of over fifty paces. What if we were to be ready for the assault and could pick off at least a number of them before they could reach Skarthveit? We might hold them off long enough for Gunnar to arrive, or even deter them altogether.”
“We may have as little as a few hours, not enough time for you to train my men, Vikings or thralls, in the use of a sling. They would need to be accurate, deadly shots.”
“Many of the slaves already are. Celts often use the sling to hunt, they can take down a rabbit or even a duck in flight. The thralls will be out of practice, but in the few hours we have we could?—”
“We do not possess these weapons, not in the numbers we would need.”
“You possess rope and leather. The items could be made readily enough.”
He narrowed his eyes, obviously considering, then he shook his head. “A fine idea, sweetheart, but the thralls work for us because they have no choice. They will not fight for us. Why would they? And I would be a fool to free my slaves, and then arm them.”
“In the circumstances you would be a fool not to.” She waved her hand at him, exasperated. “You may well glower, Viking, and please feel free to take a switch to me at your earliest convenience for my temerity in speaking to you so, but I repeat, you are a fool if you do not make use of what you have to hand. The thralls might agree to help, you will not know until you ask them. Offer them their freedom in exchange. You are fond oftrading, so let us go down to the slave shed now and strike a bargain.”
“Us? What is this ‘us’ who will barter with my property?”
“You are right, the thralls may not do this thing for you. They may not even believe you when you offer them their liberty in exchange for their aid in this battle, but theywillbelieve me. I may convince them when you could not.”
“Celt, I…” He hesitated. “A switch you say? At my earliest convenience?”
She gulped. “Yes, if you consider it necessary.”
“You called me a fool. Twice. You may be quite certain I will find it fucking necessary.” He turned and strode off, then halted and looked back over his shoulder. “Well, are you coming then? The sooner we can have these Celts sharpening their aim in yonder meadow the better.”
“Jarl,men have been sighted approaching from the south.” Ranulf, one of the men who had accompanied Fiona at the lake and had been posted as a lookout, yelled the warning from the edge of the settlement.
Ulfric raised his hand in acknowledgement and paused to survey his beleaguered domain.
It was less than an hour after the first rays of light had penetrated the cloying blackness. For an entire day and night, the men of Skarthveit had waited, alert, poised to fight for their homes and families. Fiona scurried beside Ulfric as he paced the settlement offering words of encouragement and praise, fortifying his Viking force for the battle to come. They both halted at Ranulf’s warning and exchanged a knowing look.
“It is time.”
She nodded. “I will get them.”
Fiona reached for his cheek and delivered a quick kiss, then she was running toward their longhouse, which now teemed with Celtic ex-captives. All were armed with hastily produced slingshots and most were elated at their sudden change in fortunes.
They were free men. The Viking had said so, and his lady backed him so it must be true since she was also a Celt. They had been promised their liberty and boats to take them home should they so desire, or they might remain in the land of the Norsemen as karls. All they had to do in return was wield a slingshot in defence of their captor’s homestead.
Many declared it a strange enough bargain, there were some mutterings about letting the vicious Viking bastards get what they deserved, but most saw the benefits of throwing in their lot with Ulfric. If the Bjarkessons were to prevail, they would simply take possession of the slaves along with all other property they took a fancy to. The Celts would be no better off, and their lives may be considerably worse since Ulfric was a less harsh master than many. It was true he had dragged them from their homes and enslaved them, but he also fed them, sheltered them, even permitted them to marry and raise their children. The thralls also had much to lose, so were ready to consider Ulfric’s offer.
At Fiona’s urging, those who were skilled in the use of this weapon fashioned rudimentary slings from the materials supplied by the Vikings, then tested them on a variety of targets. The results were somewhat haphazard initially, but improved as they practised. The slaves who were not able to handle a slingshot were set the task of scouring the surrounding terrain and gathering suitable stones to use, and the pile of missiles amassed in readiness for the coming fight was impressive.
