The next day, the Vikings had fully secured the lookout post on the bank of the River Tay. At noon, the Norwegian trader arrived in the city and headed directly to the monastery where Hárekr awaited him. The young leader was eating a good piece of meat while observing the priest, who looked quite wounded, exhausted, and hungry.
Crossing the door, the trader noticed that the temple was a true chaos: the nobles and local women remained piled on the floor like animals. The interpreter approached Hárekr with respect and asked what he needed. The priest, seeing the trader’s arrival, spoke again with rage:
"Pagans... You will pay for this, you will see. The king must have already found out, and in the coming days, God’s punishment will fall hard upon you."
Hárekr noticed the fury in the priest’s voice and looked at the trader, who translated every word to him immediately. Hárekr nodded in silence and instructed his interpreter:
"Ask him who is the highest authority in these lands."
The trader asked the priest the question. The priest looked at Hárekr and, noticing that there was finally someone who understood his language, replied with obvious arrogance:
"The king is Constantine I, son of Kenneth MacAlpin, the man who unified all these lands."
The trader turned to Hárekr and explained:
"He says his king is named Constantine I, son of Kenneth MacAlpin, who unified the Scottish and Pictish territories."
Hárekr nodded again. ’A king’, he thought to himself. Then he ordered:
"Ask him how many troops that king has and if he has the courage to come out and face my people."
The trader translated the order. The priest let out a mocking laugh at what he considered absurd arrogance on the Northman’s part, not knowing what he was really facing, and replied:
"He has thousands of well-armed men."
The priest felt like continuing to mock the pagan, but Hárekr caught his mocking gesture and preferred to leave the monastery; he already had the information he needed. Outside, he looked for Torstein to fill him in on everything. The old warrior immediately advised him:
"We must leave. The best thing is to form camps with scouts near the mouth of the River Tay and wait for winter." Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Hárekr listened carefully. Although they were used to the climate, the cold would do his men no good. However, he opined:
"It is a good option... But we could also try a riskier strategy."
Torstein looked at him with distrust; Hárekr always came up with bold plans. The young leader continued:
"You already took all the loot to the ships, right? Then we could take another city... If I am not mistaken, the entire army of this kingdom will come here immediately."
Torstein shook his head instantly and told him firmly:
"It is too dangerous. We cannot tempt fate that way, Hárekr."
Hárekr nodded without arguing further. He walked toward the city walls and climbed to the top to better analyze his next move. Deep down, he felt the intuition that staying camped near the river could be useful, but they also ran the risk of lowering the warriors’ morale and ending up cornered; after all, they were on enemy soil and not in their own fjords.
That same afternoon, Hárekr already had a clear plan in his mind. He returned to the monastery, but this time he did not head to the priest, but to the nobles who were still lying on the floor. He ordered the guards watching the place:
"Get them up. I want to ask them some questions."
The Vikings lifted them with shoves and gave them small hits to wake them up, as fear and hunger had them half asleep.
At that moment, the Norwegian trader, the interpreter, entered, ready to receive his chieftain’s orders.
Hárekr looked first at the women and spoke to them directly, knowing the interpreter would handle the words:
"You are the nobles of these lands, right? Do you want to wash up and leave this place alive?"
The interpreter translated each phrase exactly. The women, hearing the proposal, immediately looked at their husbands. One of the nobles, puffing his chest with false pride, replied:
"We are Picts... We will never lower ourselves before you!"
As soon as the interpreter finished translating, Hárekr gripped his axe quickly and drove it into the man’s skull.
The body fell heavily, staining the stone floor with hot blood. The rest of the prisoners let out screams of horror at the brutality of the act. The priest, watching from his chair, thought with a lump in his throat: ’A moment ago I spoke to him with such arrogance... What kind of man is this’. He watched him with terror, aware that the limits of mercy had run out. Visit novelping dot com for the full chapter.
Another of the nobles, trembling from head to toe with a broken voice, hurried to say:
"Yes!... Yes, we are important! Please!"
The interpreter translated the words to Hárekr. The young leader sat calmly on a bench and announced:
"I am going to release all the women. But I want the rest of you to carry a message to your king and accept my conditions. You will be my messengers. Agreed?"
Hearing the translation, the women nodded frantically, begging with their eyes for them to accept. The priest, confused, could not decipher exactly what Hárekr was plotting.
Without adding anything else, Hárekr left the monastery and gave a strict order to the guards:
"Feed them. Make the women wash up and look presentable for the coming days. None of them will be touched."
The Vikings nodded with respect and began taking the women out of the temple one by one, with a much calmer treatment.
Later, Hárekr went to find Thorir and Torstein, who were dining in a specific house. Finding them, he explained his plan in detail. Both chieftains nodded in silence; they no longer needed long explanations, as Hárekr’s decisions always yielded good results. Meanwhile, old Einar continued guarding the ships with a good contingent of warriors near the mouth of the River Tay.
Miles away from Dunkeld, the Pictish king was already on the march after leaving his capital at the head of eight hundred men. His goal was to hunt down the invaders and recover the prestige of his crown, as he had not participated in any military campaign since the death of his uncle, from whom he had inherited the throne.
By his side rode three of his main chieftains. The most cunning and strategic of them took the floor:
"My king... We know almost nothing about this Viking. He comes from Norway, they are not the same Danes we have dealt with before."
Constantine I nodded with a stern gesture and replied firmly:
"They have very few men. Whether they come from Denmark or are sons of Ragnarr himself, that will not prevent them from paying for what they have done in our land."
The chieftains nodded in silence. Their troops were heavily equipped for battle, but advancing on horseback at that time of year was extremely difficult. The dense fog and freezing cold settled with more force, turning the march into a risky movement.