Page 7 of Wolf of the Nordic Seas (Valiant Vikings #2)
The Count of Soissons
Alberic of Soissons and a dozen of his personal guards rode through the increasingly sloped terrain of the dense forest to the mountaintop castle of Laon, royal residence of King Lothaire of West Francia.
Known as la Montagne Cournonnée— the Crowned Mountain — the fortified royal castle, residence of the Frankish kings, was built atop a towering mountain of white limestone and encircled by massive walled battlements, like a crown upon a monarch’s majestic head.
As his Friesian plodded up the steep path to the castle, Alberic ruminated with rage over the recent message he’d received from le Chateau Blanc .
The oceanfront castle that he had twice attacked, yet failed to conquer.
In his first thwarted attempt to seize the fortress, Alberic’s Frankish army had destroyed a large section of the external defensive wall surrounding the castle, permitting the Count of Soissons to successfully impale Dag Thorfinnsson with the Dark Elven spear D?rmaur.
Crafted especially for Alberic by the blacksmith Gúldur, the spear had been forged in the fiery, underground world of the Dokkálfar Dark Elves, imbued with evil enchantment so that it would never miss its mark.
Alberic had hurled D?rmaur from amongst the rubble of the damaged outer wall of le Chateau Blanc. The spear had penetrated the chain mail armor of the Heir of étretat.
And Dag Thorfinnsson had plummeted to his death from the rooftop battlements of the castle ramparts.
Alberic had stolen the priceless Elven sword Galadir, i mbued with the powerful magic of the Ljósálfar Light Elves. He’d been certain that, once he’d stolen the Elven blade, he would be invincible in battle. But Galadir had not served Alberic, for the razor sharp edge of the magic Elven blade had dulled like unforged iron.
He’d subsequently learned that Galadir had been created by a powerful Light Elf to ward against evil and defend against darkness. The enchanted blade had been crafted to protect the castle. And could only be wielded by the Heir of étretat.
If Alberic married Lady Elfi—Thorfinn’s sole surviving heir—he would acquire her lands, her title, and her dowry. As Lord of le Chateau Blanc and Count of étretat, he would then be able to wield the enchanted Elven sword.
So he’d attacked the castle a second time, taking the chatelain Lord Thorfinn as hostage — to force his daughter’s hand in marriage. But rather than submit to Alberic’s demands, Elfi of étretat had instead summoned Sk?rde the Scourge, Count of the Pays de Caux. The infamous Viking formerly known as the Dragon of Denmark.
And Richard the Fearless. The viperous Viking Duke of Normandy.
Both bloody bastards had installed sizeable armies at le Chateau Blanc.
And now, Richard the Fearless had not only demanded the release of Lord Thorfinn and the return of the stolen Elven sword Galadir, he’d also threatened a Viking siege of Paris—with the staggering combined forces of Normandy, Denmark, and Norway—if Alberic refused to comply.
To make matters worse, Alberic had just learned from a trusted informant that a fearsome Viking warlord—with a fleet of drakkar warships and a formidable army of a thousand Danish warriors—had just arrived to intensify fortifications of the city of étretat and the entire alabaster coast of the Pays de Caux .
A Viking alliance between three of his Frankish king’s greatest enemies.
Harald Bluetooth, King of Denmark and Norway.
Richard the Fearless, Duke of Normandy.
And Sk?rde the Scourge, Bluetooth’s bastard and Count of the Pays de Caux.
Alberic seethed with frustrated fury. Twice before, the same violent Vikings had allied against the Franks, repelling the royal army of West Francia. And forcing King Lothaire to recognize Richard the Fearless as the reigning Duke of Normandy.
As Alberic now dismounted from his Friesian destrier and handed the horse’s reins to a royal stable hand, he faced the daunting task of informing his fractious king of the revived alliance and renewed threat of Viking forces against the Franks. And the impending marriage of Lady Elfi of étretat to the Danish Jarl of Ribe.
Liveried royal servants escorted him into the vast foyer of the stone fortress and into the elegantly appointed throne room where King Lothaire, seated in his velvet tufted, gilded chair, adjusted the glittering, jewel-encrusted crown which rested over his long, dark curls. A royal blue velvet cloak — adorned with the golden fleur-de-lys emblems of the Frankish monarchy and edged with elegant white ermine fur — draped majestically over the king’s regal shoulders. As Alberic entered the room and bowed before his Frankish monarch, Lothaire summoned a valet to pour two goblets of wine and invited the Count of Soissons to sit at his irascible royal side.
“Thank you for granting me this royal audience, Your Majesty. I regret to be the bearer of distressing news, but it is urgent that I speak with you personally and privately about a matter of grave importance.” Alberic accepted the chalice of wine from the castle servant and waited until the valet had withdrawn from the throne room before continuing.
Lothaire sipped from his own goblet, observing his guest with a judicious, wary eye. “You failed in your attempt to seize le Chateau Blanc, yet you did succeed in stealing the Elven sword and taking Thorfinn hostage. With him in your dungeon, under the skilled hands of your sadistic torturer, surely he has conceded to your demand to marry his daughter. Or... did he perchance expire?” The king appeared almost fervid at the garish, gruesome prospect.
“Neither, my king. Thorfinn is alive and well. Rather that maim him to force his consent, I opted to coerce Lady Elfi instead.” Alberic bolstered his courage with a bracing gulp of wine. “I demanded that she appear at the church of Reims on the first of October—to marry me in an official Christian wedding— in exchange for the safe release of her unharmed father.” Alberic wiped sweaty palms along the sides of his woolen breeches, inhaling deeply to summon his strength. “I had intended to bring Thorfinn to Reims—under armed guard, of course—for him to condone the marriage and designate me as his proclaimed heir. He would have complied for his daughter’s safety, knowing that she could easily have been taken prisoner as well.”
King Lothaire leaned back in his gilded chair, his thick brows furrowed with unease, irritation, and malcontent. “Then why are you here? What has gone wrong?”
Alberic swallowed a thick lump of trepidation, then delivered the disquieting news. “Sk?rde the Scourge and Richard the Fearless have both come to Lady Elfi’s aid, installing hundreds of Viking warriors and Norman knights at le Chateau Blanc . My sources have also informed me that one of Harald Bluetooth’s Danish warlords—a mammoth brute known as the Wolf of the Nordic Seas — recently arrived in étretat with an army of a thousand Viking warriors and a formidable fleet of drakkar warships. Richard insists that I return the Elven sword Galadir and personally deliver Lord Thorfinn to him on the first of October in Reims. He also refuses my demand to marry Lady Elfi, informing me that she is betrothed to the Danish jarl. My sources report that they plan to marry in a Viking Yuletide wedding at le Chateau Blanc on the fourteenth of December.”
Alberic exhaled slowly, assessing the anger in the king’s florid face. “As Duke of Normandy, Richard reminded me that the Treaty of Saint-Clair-sur-Epte assures the tentative peace between the Vikings of his dukedom and the kingdom of West Francia.” He examined the elaborate design of his silver goblet, deliberately avoiding Lothaire’s scathing stare. “The Duke also stated that he considers my attacks on le Chateau Blanc a violation of that treaty. And that—should I refuse to render Lord Thorfinn unharmed and in good health on the first of October and return his son’s stolen sword— the allied Viking armies of Normandy, Denmark, and Norway will sail up the Seine and attack Paris on l’ ?le de la Cité .”
Lothaire bolted from his gilded throne and stormed across the room. Teeth clenched in fury, he gazed out the window at the forest surrounding the hilltop royal castle of Laon. “I cannot risk a Viking invasion of Paris. Hugh Capet—my greatest rival and the foremost threat to my throne—is the Count of Paris and Duke of the Franks. Not only does Capet have the staunch support of many Frankish nobles who oppose me, he is also married to Adelaide of Aquitaine, the cousin of Richard the Fearless. Although I have no proof for an outright accusation, I know that Capet aided Richard in reclaiming his castle when Badelbert was defeated at Fécamp.” The scowling king spun away from the window, his countenance implacable and intractable. “If Richard—the Viking Duke of Normandy—were to siege Paris, his staunch support of Hugh Capet could very well dethrone me. And eliminate my attempt to dispel the Vikings from Normandy and reattach Richard’s dukedom to my West Frankish crown.”
Exhaling in disgust, Lothaire strode back to resume his royal seat upon the gilded throne. He summoned the solicitous servant and waited for the attendant to refill their goblets. Taking a long pull from his silver chalice studded with deep blue sapphires, the king swallowed his bitter displeasure with the fine Frankish wine. His piercing stare sliced Alberic like a dagger. “You will deliver Lord Thorfinn to Richard the Fearless in the church of Reims on the first of October. Inform him that your King has no intention of violating the Treaty of Saint-Clair-sur-Epte and has insisted that you surrender your prisoner— and return the stolen Elven sword— to avoid any further conflict with the Viking Duke of Normandy.” Lothaire leaned forward ominously, ruthless royal power emanating from his menacing stare. “Although there can be no trace whatsoever back to me, you will find another way to seize le Chateau Blanc. And marry Lady Elfi of étretat—before her wedding to the Danish jarl can take place on the fourteenth of December.”
The king traced a long, delicate finger around the rim of his ornate silver chalice. “Since direct attacks on the castle have been unsuccessful, and our previous attempt to establish Badelbert as The Frankish Duke failed,” he said, referring to the bloody battle in which Richard— allied with Harald Bluetooth and Sk?rde the Scourge—had triumphed several years earlier over the Franks by reclaiming the seized castle in Fécamp, “you must find another way.” His cunning gaze fixed upon an ornately carved walnut cabinet standing against the wall. With a sly grin, King Lothaire rose from his gilded throne, crossed the room, and removed something from a silver jeweled case stored upon an inside shelf.
When he returned to sit at Alberic’s side, the king placed an ominous silver coin with shadowy swirls and blackened runes on the table between them. “Take this to the Sapphire Chalice Tavern in the seaport of Dorestad— the Frisian trade center in the Frankish territory on the North Sea. Present it to Lord Gúldur, owner of the tavern, of which I am the royal patron.” Lothaire grinned wickedly at the silver coin imbued with malevolent markings. “As a debt of gratitude to me, Gúldur once swore to perform a royal service to the bearer of this coin.”
Alberic examined the silver piece, which was inscribed with an intricate, swirling pattern and mysterious Nordic runes. Gúldur was the Dokkálfar blacksmith who had crafted D?rmaur, the enchanted spear with which Alberic had killed Dag Thorfinnsson. Although Alberic had never met the Dark Elven lord—for King Lothaire had given Alberic the deadly Dokkálfar weapon along with the order to attack and conquer le Chàteau Blanc months ago—he certainly recognized Gúldur’s sinister name.
“As you know, Gúldur is an exceptional Dokkalfár blacksmith . Perhaps he can craft a replacement sword—an enchanted Dark Elven blade for you to give Richard when you release Thorfinn. So that you may keep Galadir —to wield against your enemies once you become Lord of étretat.” Lothaire sipped his wine, eyeing Alberic over the rim of his sapphire studded chalice. “Inform Gúldur that you must take the castle with subtlety and subterfuge rather than a direct attack. He has a powerful sorceress— a volva who practices dark magic. She might foresee the means for you to infiltrate le Chateau Blanc and force Thorfinn to marry his beautiful daughter to you. Once you become the Heir of étretat, you’ll be able to wield the enchanted Ljósálfar sword to kill Thorfinn, Richard the Fearless, and Sk?rde the Scourge. And establish the first Frankish colony in the heart of the Pays de Caux ”
Lothaire raised his goblet of wine in tribute. “If you are successful in seizing le Chateau Blanc, I shall proclaim you the new Duke of Normandy. With the aid of the Dokkálfár , we’ll dispel the venomous Viking invaders. And reclaim the dukedom of Normandy for the kingdom of West Francia.”
Alberic inclined his head and drank from his shaking goblet, astounded at the enormity of the royal proclamation.
I shall marry Elfi of étretat. Defeat Richard the Fearless. And become the Frankish Duke of Normandy!
He downed his wine and placed the chalice on the table. Rising from his velvet tufted chair, he tucked the Dokkálfar silver coin into the leather pouch strapped to his belt. He bowed before the menacing sovereign monarch. “As you command, my king. It shall be done.”