Summer Of The Viking
‘We have the summer, Alwynn. It will have to be enough.’Washed up alone on the Northumbrian shore, Valdar Nerison is a stranger in a foreign land. He has unfinished business in Raumerike, but first he owes his rescuer, the beautiful Lady Alwynn, a life debt.Alwynn is wary of Valdar’s promise to protect her – after all, she has known only betrayal at the hands of men. And as summer’s end approaches Valdar must choose whether to return home and fight for his honour or to stay and fight for Alwynn’s heart…
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‘I would defend you to my dying breath,’ he said.
‘Our people are enemies, Valdar. Enemies,’ she replied.
‘Are we enemies, Alwynn?’
‘We are certainly not friends.’
‘We were lovers.’
‘That is in the past.’
He went over to her, magnificent in his nakedness.
‘It will never be over between us as long as I have breath in my body.’
Having looked at the Lindisfarne raid from a Viking perspective, I became interested in looking at what it might have been like from a Northumbrian one. In particular I wanted to tell the story of how a woman might react if she accidentally fell in love with a Viking.
While I was mulling over the possibilities my fellow historical author and friend Annie Burrows asked, ‘So, when are you going to tell Valdar’s story?’ Valdar was the man left at the altar when Kara’s husband, Ash Hringson, appeared after a seven-year absence in Return of the Viking Warrior. And I knew I had found my hero.
As I did my research I was intrigued to learn about St Cuthbert’s storm, which happened in 794. When raiders appeared for a second time, apparently they were suddenly swamped by a terrific storm. The King of Northumbria managed to kill the leader and the rest either drowned or were killed. After that the raids in Northumbria decreased significantly for a time, but remained a concern.
I do hope you enjoy reading Valdar’s and Alwynn’s story as much I did writing it.
I love getting comments from readers and can be reached at [email protected], through my publisher, on Facebook or on Twitter @MichelleLStyles
Born and raised near San Francisco, California, MICHELLE STYLES currently lives near Hadrian’s Wall with her husband, a menagerie of pets and occasionally one of her three university-aged children. An avid reader, she became hooked on historical romance after discovering Georgette Heyer, Anya Seton and Victoria Holt.
Her website is michellestyles.co.uk and she’s on Twitter and Facebook.
For Linda Fildew,
because she always likes a good Viking story
Contents
June 795—off the coast of Northumbria
The possibility of returning alive to Raumerike and Sand hung by the slenderest of threads. After weighing the odds, Valdar Nerison figured he was never going to see his nephews again, never going to sit under the rafters of his hall and never going to breathe the sweet air of home again. He knew that in his heart. He’d known it ever since the mutineers had struck five nights ago, killing his friends, including the leader of the felag.
Girmir, the leader of the mutiny, would strike before the ship reached Raumerike’s shore, most likely when the familiar outlines of the houses came into view. But right now they needed Valdar alive to navigate with the sunstone. Girmir’s mistake was that he assumed Valdar believed his bland reassurance about how valuable he was.
The only question in Valdar’s mind was the timing of the escape. When should he make his move? They watched him like ravens and had taken all his weapons.
Valdar bent double over his oar as the rain and the waves lashed him, trying to reason out the best moment. Rejecting first one plan then another as unworkable. With each passing day, it became clear that the men believed Girmir when he proclaimed that they would acquire gold and slaves beyond their wildest imaginings if they followed him.
As the gale intensified, Girmir started muttering about making a sacrifice to the storm god, Ran. A human sacrifice. ‘Better one should die than the entire boat,’ he announced. It chilled Valdar’s blood.
Valdar glanced to his left as a flash of lightning lit up the sky. In the distance he spied the shadowy shape of land. For the first time since the mutiny, a glimmer of hope filled him. One long-ago summer, he and his brother had learnt to swim. Even after all this time, he reckoned that he just about remembered the strokes. One chance to get it right.
‘The storm increases. Ran and Thor are both in a terrible temper,’ he shouted as another blast from Thor’s anvil reverberated through the sky. ‘If you are serious about a sacrifice, do it before the entire boat is swamped.’
‘Do you wish to challenge for the leadership?’ Girmir came forward and put a knife against Valdar’s neck. ‘You know what happened to Horik the Younger when we fought. And to Sirgurd.’
‘Your boat now, Girmir, but I’m entitled to an opinion.’ Valdar ceased rowing and stared at the usurper, who had attacked at night, killing Horik before he could reach for his sword. Then forced Sirgurd to fight when he was clearly ravaged by fever. ‘The storm may be difficult to ride. We should put to shore.’
‘The only way which will quiet the gods in this weather is a life. I’ve seen it before.’ Girmir nodded towards where the youngest member cowered beside his oar. ‘A noble thing to give one’s life for one’s friends. Someone should volunteer.’
