Read The Lord of Vik-Lo: A Novel of Viking Age Ireland (The Norsemen Saga Book 3) for Free Online Page A

windward! It looks like we will be out here for the night!”
      Harald and Agnarr nodded, not bothering to strain their voices against the wind, and headed forward, calling to the others. They were Thorgrim’s most trusted men. The others in Far Voyager ’s company, to be sure, were good seamen and good warriors. There was no man aboard he did not trust, or they would not have been aboard. But he knew from experience that when he gave an order to Harald or Agnarr it would be carried out as nearly to his wishes as it could be without his having done the job himself.
      Starri Deathless sat down beside Ornolf. Ornolf handed him his drinking horn and Starri took a long draft. In terms of personal trust, there was no one aboard save for Harald and Ornolf, who were family, whom Thorgrim trusted more than Starri. He and Starri had fought side by side at raid on the monastery at Cloyne four months before, though to Thorgrim it seemed much, much longer past than that. Starri decided then to follow Thorgrim and he had hardly left Thorgrim’s side since. There had been many fights between then and now, large and small, mead hall brawls and the clash of shieldwall against shieldwall. Always Starri had been there with Thorgrim.
      Starri was a berserker, one of those blessed, or cursed, with a wild and uncontrollable lust for a fight. He was a man who dreamed of nothing but being butchered in honorable combat, being lifted to Valhalla and there spending eternity fighting and feasting. Unfortunately for Starri he was so wild in earthly combat, so brutal in wielding his battle ax, that his enemies seemed never able to lay a weapon on him.
      Starri had become like a brother to Thorgrim, but Thorgrim did not always turn to Starri for more practical considerations, such as matters of seamanship. Starri could be a bit unpredictable.
      Back in Dubh-linn, having recovered from his wound enough to move about, having realized that he could abandon the turmoil of Ireland and sail Far Voyager back to his home, Thorgrim decided to do just that. He had felt compelled to tell Starri in as gentle a manner as he could. He did not think Starri would be pleased.
      “I’ll leave Ireland now,” he said as the two men stood on the low hill above the muddy shore, looking out at the mouth of the Liffey and the sea beyond. “Harald is ready to return to Vik. Ornolf is, too. I did not think the old man would ever leave, but it seems the charms of Dubh-linn have worn thin for him, as they have for me and Harald.”
      Starri nodded. For all his reaction, Thorgrim might have been telling him what was for supper. At last Starri said, “Very well, to Vik it will be.” It would not occur to Starri to ask if he was invited. And of course he was. Thorgrim was just not so sure he would want to go.
      “There’ll be no fighting, no trouble,” Thorgrim warned him. “We will sail to Vik and that will be it.”
      Starri laughed. He laughed out loud and with genuine amusement. “Where the Night Wolf goes, there will always be trouble!” he said.
      And so there was. But mounting seas and a cold, driving wind on a lee shore was not the sort of trouble Starri enjoyed. He huddled against the side of the ship, pulled a fur over his head. Starri was tall, lean and muscular, all arms and legs like a starfish, well built for the kind of fighting he enjoyed, not so well built to stand against inclement weather and boarding waves.
      Harald and Agnarr came aft, moving with care over the wildly bucking deck. The seas were coming aboard with every roller that passed under them, and as the bow lifted to a wave the water cascaded aft and broke around the men’s legs like they were standing in a river.
      “All’s secure, father!” Harald shouted. What sunlight there was, filtered through the heavy cover of clouds, was growing dim now with the night coming on, but there was still light enough for Thorgrim to see Harald’s ruddy cheeks, his yellow hair