9) Vengeance Is My Name

The Earl's men finally track Thorgrim down and seek vengeance for their slain comrade.

I went fishing that morning. The last time I went fishing, my entire life turned upside down. I hoped this time would be different. Back in Jomsborg, men far senior to me politicked for overall command. I had not the seniority to be considered myself, nor did I have sufficient knowledge of the candidates to be influential. Thus, while the Jomsvikings sorted themselves out, I had a rare day to relax.

It had stormed for several days. We heard the frost giants throwing boulders at each other up in the northern mountains. They seemed to generally enjoy themselves making a nuisance of themselves while making a mess of the mountain passes. The wildlife hunkered down in their dens in fear. Now the storm had abated, leaving a late-season coating of snow on the ground. The fish would be biting. Yet the bears would be hungry as well, so as a precaution I wrapped my sword inside a fur blanket and took it with me. Even the birds chattered endlessly, save for a solitary raven keeping vigil on a branch next to the river.

I'd found a likely spot and cast a line into a trout stream next to a sunny clearing. With the line in, I leaned against a willow where the clearing met the river and slowly pulled.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and for the first time in I don't know how long, I was able to relax. My mind wandered as I continued to cast aimlessly. While I didn't want to go back to Jomsborg without a fish, I didn't really care all that much. We had ample food. The down time mattered more than anything else.

As I reflected, I realized that somehow, I'd stumbled into a good life. Jomsburg wasn't the home of my birth, but it was home now. It could be a good home. I wasn't likely to have a long life here, but it was likely to be prosperous and would never lack for adventure. Was the revenge I'd once sworn even all that important anymore? I still thought often of my childhood love, but I could easily take a wife here and be happy. It wouldn't be the dream coming true, but the Norns decided these things and perhaps it was silly to think they would give me everything I desired. Perhaps I'd do better to let all that go and enjoy the present? I had good friends, prosperity, even a little house of my own. There was plenty of fighting and feasting and when it was all over, I had this little trout stream where I could listen to the birds chirping. The only thing I didn't have was a woman and there was no shortage of intriguing prospects around Jomsborg.

A tug on the line. I began to reel it in, and the fish began to fight. Soon a fat trout lay in the snow on the riverbank. I quickly dispatched it - only a beast would let it suffer - and now had a fresh meal for this evening. I used a puuku that I'd gotten in trade from a Finn to gut the fish. It was a new knife and I was beyond impressed with how it cut. The Finn had demanded a hefty price in trade, and I'd gladly paid, for the blade was a thing of beauty. The craftsman who made it - he'd left his makers mark engraved in the blade but I couldn't read the Finnish language - was a man whose skills rivaled any Norseman. The blade was small, shorter than the width of my hand, but that gave the user great control. The metal was exceptional, and the handle sheer artistry. The maker had stacked thin disks of brass and birch on the knife's tang, with the occasional black oak disk mixed in for color. Then he'd capped it with a brass butt and rounded the handle to feel smooth and comfortable in my hand. A knife was just a tool, but this one was a work of art as well. It seemed little but it immediately became one of my most valued possessions. I hoped to command my own boat someday and be a giver of silver myself, and I rued the day when I would give the puuku away to one of my men. Yet I also looked forward to it, as the man who received it would have done something exceptional to earn it.

There were wild onions in the meadow, their grasses sticking out above the snow, and I went to harvest some to season the fish.

Then three men entered the clearing from the other side in full battle gear.

"We've been looking for you," one snarled.

I recognized the voice. These were The Earl's men. Word must have reached him that I had joined the Jomsvikings, yet even our might wasn't enough to prevent him from sending a team. My guts puckered. They'd chosen their moment well. I had no armor, no shield, and only the little puuku on my belt. However, I did have one trick they likely were not aware of.

"Come on, then," I growled as I backed up to the willow tree.

They would recognize this tactic as a way to keep them from surrounding me. They hopefully would not recognize it as my surprise. These men were seasoned warriors, and I was counting on their overconfidence as I stood my ground. If they kept that overconfidence just a moment longer, they would feed the eagles. I let them come. They do not know I am ready to cut them down. Now that I have a plan, I am no longer afraid, for these men came for a boy but found a Jomsviking.

The overconfident fools come at me one at a time. The first smiled a rictus grin as he brandished his sword, eager to cut down a weaponless opponent. In his defense, I was an outlaw, so there was no honor to be lost for him by striking down a defenseless opponent. However, I was not defenseless. I reach down into the fur and draw my sword. The recognize it, as the man known as Rolf once carried it. It was not a famous blade, nor was it fancy, but it was lethal. He reached to grab me and in one smooth stroke I drew and slashed down. It was a wicked stroke, and it met the unsuspecting man on his arm. The blade cleaved completely through, severing the arm entirely. His sword fell to the ground and was painted crimson by the fluid spurting from his stump.

They came for The Earl's vengeance, but vengeance is MY name. The first man howled in agony and stared at his arm on the ground. Now the roles reversed, and I struck fear into their hearts. The next man approaches and makes a few tentative slashes, which were easily parried. Then he oversteps into a lunge. It's a small error, yet that was all I needed. One cut was all it required. The blade went straight through the man's neck, completely decapitating him. His head joined his friends arm lying useless on the ground. My sword was a dealer of pain with only the promise of death to any foe.

All the training and fighting with the Jomsvikings honed my skills to a level that these men could not fathom. My sword and I were one. There could have been a hundred men and let them come for I would cut them down. Yet there were not hundreds. There was but one man left, and he had lost the will to fight. I pointed my sword towards him, beckoning him to come forward and receive death at my hands. Instead, he took flight.

The man who lost his arm was not yet dead, but with one more slash I resolve that. Then I kicked the sword out of the corpse's hand. I want neither of these two serving me in Valhalla. They were The Earl's men, bent on vengeance, but instead of an honor-less wanderer they found a warrior. If they expected no honor in killing me then let them have no honor in being killed.

I stripped them of their weapons and armor. After all, swords were extremely expensive. They will make fine rewards for men who someday serve me. Likewise, shields were constantly destroyed in battle. These needed new paint with Jomsviking colors, but aside from that they were perfectly acceptable. Two more shields were always welcome. Likewise, their mail shirts take dozens of hours to make and would find welcome from any warrior who can fit into them. They likely had a camp in the woods nearby with packs full of supplies and food, but I had my hands full with the weapons. I could scavenge for their camp later.

As I hauled my unexpected loot back to Jomsborg I realized that I just wanted this business with The Earl to go away. Yet while I may no longer have an emotional need to confront my past, that does not mean that my past will not continue to come back an haunt me. The Earl would not stop at the loss of two more men. It was time to go home and confront him once and for all. The Earl would be my second visit. First, though, would be my woman.

No one leaves the Jomsvikings without permission. That included taking a leave of absence. Until a new leader emerged, there was no one to grant permission for a more lengthy leave, so my trip would have to be a maximum of three days. That would be enough time to row across the straights to my home village and return with, at last, my bride. This, of course, would likely infuriate The Earl even more, but his day was close at hand as well.

I grabbed a small boat and a handful of my new friends to crew it and made my way back to what I once called home.

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