6: Blood and Honour

Gunnholm was the first to rise, but he walked off moodily down the beach as soon as he had finished his breakfast. He had much on his mind.

His father had initiated him into the Order of Wolfcoats and Berserkers, choosing him from his other brothers as the one in whom the abilities were strongest, teaching him the runes, the incantations, the deep meditation techniques; how to force the iron control of the will upon his weak flesh. Fin had impressed upon him the fact that he had joined a holy order, one whose basic precepts had been laid down by Odin himself, in a former age. Though akin to the witches and shamans of the North, the berserkers did not utilise the powers of magic for shameful reasons, but instead used them in battle to bring glory to the kings, the descendants of Odin, and to sanctify warfare in the Allfather's name. Like any religious order of warriors, from the Mujahedin of the Saracens to the Chevaliers of the Franks, they had gained something of an evil reputation among some people, and their dealings with the wizards of Finnmark made them infamous in the minds of ordinary folk, who associated such behaviour with he-witches and other unmanly nithings. But the berserkers, alone of the mystical and religious groups of the Norse world, used the powers of magic for entirely honourable reasons.

Of course, just as traitor knights existed in the Empire of the Franks, lordless berserkers like Varg and his men used their powers for selfish ends, rather than dedicating their lives and their powers to noble kings and warlords. But these ill-disciplined duellists and abductors of women were hardly typical.

In fact, if it hadn't mean betraying the vows Gunnholm took during his initiation after drinking the blood of a bear, he would be only too glad to help his lady kill her father's slayer. These shameful savages who muddied for all time the noble name of berserker deserved to die a suitably dishonourable death. And yet if the berserker's weakness became common knowledge, how would the Order ever survive? They were the upholders of an entire way of life, one that had been handed down ever since Odin and his sons ruled over the Northlands. If Gunnholm obeyed his lady - as his vows also insisted he do - he would endanger not only the berserkers themselves, but the whole of Norse culture. Lax, Southern ways were already beginning to creep North from Saxony and England, softening the hardy folk of Denmark, Sweden and Norway: once they had all been as temperate and self-disciplined as any berserker, but these days the Danes had a worse reputation for drunkards than the Romans had ever had, while in the days of Skjold and Hrolf Kraki they had been warriors to a man - and the folk of Norway and Sweden were rapidly following this decadent trend. Only the berserkers could stop the rot.

Gunnholm was in something of a dilemma.

Which should he break, his vow to obey his leader, or his vow of loyalty to the Order? If he betrayed the secret, his whole culture might go under. If he kept quiet, he would be banished from the crew, becoming a landless, lordless wanderer, no better than Varg the Black. But it wasn't just him who would suffer, even if he was banished. His brothers would insist on standing by him and following him into exile. How would they ever survive without fellow Vikings to aid them? They were far weaker than he. He could survive alone, but they would soon die.

In the end, he told himself, loyalty to one's kindred triumphs over any adherence to high-minded ideals. Scowling moodily, he wandered back up the beach.

Inghen was at the centre of her men. She saw him approaching. To his surprise, she had in her hands the very weapon she needed. That settled it. It was a sign!

He walked straight up to her, forcing his way through the crowd.

'Gunnholm,' she said. 'You have something to say?'

He nodded, and folded his arms. He started to speak.