Old Einar, seeing the Pictish strategist’s vessel arrive, remained in complete silence. He watched Cináed disembark from the ship carrying the loot to move to a secondary boat, pulling away to a prudent distance on the water from where he could watch his every move.
Einar nodded in approval. He climbed onto the loaded vessel and began to open the wooden chests one by one. Contemplating the glint of the gold and the silver ingots, he let out a smile of deep satisfaction. Immediately after, he checked the bundles with the chainmail; they were impeccably woven and of excellent military quality. He nodded again, pleased.
At that precise instant, the gallop of three horses echoed on the shore. It was Hárekr, Torstein, and Thorir. Seeing the ship crowded with the riches and supplies he had demanded, Hárekr understood that his raid on Pictish soil had come to an end.
Hárekr turned immediately to Torstein and ordered:
"Take charge of gathering the troops and bringing them to the vessels. We will leave for Northumbria tomorrow."
Torstein nodded, contemplating the ship crowded with the riches they had demanded. It was time to march.
At a short distance, Cináed watched Hárekr in silence. He had always felt that this young pagan leader was different from the rest of the Vikings, standing out for a lethal mix of coldness and tactical vision.
Hárekr noticed the strategist’s fixed gaze and remembered that it had been him who handled the crisis sensibly during the confrontation with the king. He got off his horse and walked to where Einar was, who was checking the cargo. The old veteran confirmed:
"It is all as requested... Counting every last gold and silver coin will take time, but at first glance the amount is exact."
Hárekr nodded in approval and instructed him:
"We have a day before setting sail to verify everything. Call the trader; he will be in charge of doing the math with precision."
Einar frowned, harboring a deep doubt. It did not seem prudent to him to show the total volume of their riches to a simple trader, but he chose to keep silent and obey the order.
The day passed as planned. At dawn, the entire fleet set sail back and retraced the route until anchoring again in Dunbar, the first coastal city they had conquered.
A few days after arriving, the troops disembarked. The local civilians, seeing the Viking snekkjur return, locked themselves in their houses in terror. However, Hárekr gave strict orders: this time there would be no raids or massacres. They needed to keep the area calm and fortified while they waited for the precise moment to strike at the heart of Northumbria.
In the following days, Hárekr did not waste time. In mid-December, with the cold pressing down in the streets of Dunbar, he ordered that the troops not remain inactive. The warriors kept training daily to conserve heat, sharpen their weapons, and be ready for what was coming.
That same afternoon, the gate guards announced the arrival of a messenger sent by King Osberht, the rival who disputed the throne with ?lla in the middle of a civil war. Hárekr gave the order to let him pass without completely disarming him.
The man crossed the threshold of the main hall with his face numb from the wind and found Hárekr sitting at the table next to Torstein and Thorir. The messenger took a breath and declared:
"I am an emissary of the legitimate king of Northumbria, Osberht." This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Hárekr looked at him in silence, waiting for the trader to translate the words before giving any answer. The man continued, seeking to size up the young Norse leader with his gaze:
"My lord knows that you are coming for King ?lla, who is a usurper. Legitimately, the throne belongs to my lord."
The interpreter translated every word to Hárekr. The young chieftain did not think about it much and gave him the exact answer:
"We don’t care who the legitimate king is and who is not. ?lla is going to die. I recommend you go back the way you came and that your king not even think about joining against us."
The messenger felt the humiliation, but he knew this Northman was not Danish. He knew well the hunger for power and fame that moved the men of the north, so he tried to tempt him one more time:
"The king gave me full power to negotiate with you. If you accept, we will give you lands and everything you ask for."
Hárekr looked at him in silence. He stared at him fixedly for long minutes while the interpreter translated. The emissary, feeling observed under that icy gaze, tried to say something more without understanding what the Northman intended, until Hárekr spoke:
"I don’t care about lands or riches. Everything I want, I take for myself. But I would like to meet your king."
Hearing this, Torstein and Thorir stared at him. Einar himself, who was entering the hall at that moment, stopped dead in his tracks. Everyone in the room fixed their eyes on Hárekr, surprised by the proposal.
The messenger hesitated, not knowing what to answer. This was completely outside what he was allowed to agree to. He remained pensive for a few seconds until he managed to say:
"Could you let me go talk to my lord?"
Hárekr nodded and instructed the interpreter:
"I give him five days. If in five days there is no answer, I will return the next messenger without a head."
The interpreter sighed and translated the warning instantly.
The messenger turned around and left the hall in a hurry. He knew that in five days it was almost impossible to go and return, but he would push the pace to the maximum; after all, this gave his faction a real opportunity.
"Why talk to that king?"
He asked it looking at him with obvious confusion. The rest of those present nodded in silence, showing that they shared the same doubt.
Hárekr took a sip of mead and replied in a carefree tone:
"Who said I’m going to talk to him?"
Thorir let out a clean laugh upon understanding the move and asked to confirm it:
"Hárekr... Do you plan to take him hostage?"
Hárekr nodded. Then he looked toward Einar and added:
"Since the gods arranged things this way, why not take advantage of it?"
Einar, who faithfully honored the gods and had spoken to him a lot about omens, nodded deeply pleased with the idea.
Thus the days passed. On the third day, the messenger returned with his horse completely exhausted, demonstrating the enormous effort of the journey. Hárekr, who was waiting for him at the port, listened to the emissary’s report:
"Viking lord... My king accepted the meeting. But he demands that it be at the southern border, near Roxburgh."
Hárekr nodded without hesitation and instructed him:
"I give you a day of rest for your horse and your men. Tomorrow at dawn we will leave."
He said it contemplating the surface of the frozen sea. The cold became harsher as the days passed, but it was a climate he liked.
Thorir walked toward him and stood beside him. Looking toward the horizon over the waves, he asked with a certain nostalgia:
"What will the jarl be doing in Norway?"
Hárekr, remembering his mother’s face, felt a warmth of emotion in his chest. He thought of Lagertha and the possibility that news of his feats on this island had already crossed the sea to her ears.