In mid-January, the Great Heathen Army was clashing with the forces of King ?lla, who was desperately sending messages begging for help from the Christian rulers of the south.
In Dunbar, the tension grew daily. Hárekr’s host was anxious to advance; they knew the great war had already begun, and they had spent too many days without seeing their chieftain.
On the dock, one of the veterans confronted Torstein and shouted at him in front of several warriors:
"Old man! What is happening with our chieftain? We are going to be left with nothing if we do not march now."
Torstein, not knowing what to say so as not to reveal the gravity of Hárekr’s condition, simply let out a heavy sigh. Discontent and murmurs of mutiny were growing among the ranks.
Inside the room of the main hall, Hárekr drank hot infusions while observing the woman and her daughter. Both had cared for him perfectly during his illness, to the point that Hárekr began calling the mother Liv (pronounced Lif) and the twelve-year-old girl Ylva (pronounced Il-va).
Both seemed pleased. Hearing Torstein and Thorir speak over all those days, they were beginning to understand the northern tongue. The two chieftains also became increasingly kind to them.
Hárekr asked Liv to speak to him in Saxon so he could learn a few words of their language. In a moment of calm, he looked at them firmly and asked:
"We will march from here soon. Will you come with me?"
He posed it seriously. Both had saved him from the clutches of death; if they decided to follow him, he would guarantee them dignified treatment.
Liv looked at her little Ylva. Aware of the ruin and instability ravaging her own land, she made a decision. Struggling to pronounce the rough Norse she was learning, she replied:
"Ya... Yes."
Hárekr nodded, satisfied. He immediately called Thorir, who entered the room within seconds, and ordered him:
He said it in a cold and blunt tone that allowed no argument. Thorir understood the order instantly and left to relay it.
The next day, Hárekr was strong enough to stand. He dressed in a heavy Arctic fox fur coat and noble leathers that accentuated his bearing.
He walked to the courtyard where his warriors were training. Seeing him appear with a firm step, they all stopped and approached him, noticing him changed, harder and more mature after brushing against death. One of the most veteran men dared to speak to him with a confident smile:
"Ragnarrsson! We thought you had beaten us to Valhalla."
The others held their breath at the warrior’s audacity, but Hárekr let out a dry laugh and replied:
"Not yet... It is still too early for that."
He was clearly referring to the slaughter awaiting them. Then he raised his voice to the troops and decreed:
"Prepare your weapons. We march tomorrow at dawn."
The courtyard erupted in cheers. Hárekr headed to the main hall to eat and, looking at Torstein, instructed him:
"Send a message to my mother in Norway... I need her to locate a person for me."
He then described Huld’s features and gaze to him in detail. Torstein nodded without asking questions about the woman’s identity. He headed toward the merchants who brought mead and supplies from the fjords to provision the expedition; knowing they had a generous client in the young chieftain, one of the sailors agreed to carry the letter to the jarl Lagertha.
The day passed among preparations, sharpening axes, and loading provisions.
The next morning, the troops began the march. Hárekr led the column on horseback. He turned his face toward Einar, in whom he now had greater trust thanks to the sacrifice ritual he had led for his health, and asked him:
"Where exactly is my brothers’ army?"
Einar, seeing that Hárekr addressed him before Torstein, felt an internal pride and an opportunity to strengthen his position among the commanders. He nodded, pleased, and informed him:
"King ?lla has entrenched himself in the heart of Northumbria, inside the fortress of Eoforwic. Meanwhile, your brothers’ host is deploying on the border between Mercia and Northumbria."
Hárekr nodded in silence, fitting the pieces of the map together in his head. He looked at his three chieftains: Einar, Torstein, and Thorir, and laid out his strategy to them: Get faster updates on novelping(.)com.
"We will plunder and burn everything we find in our path on the way south. We will draw the attention of the Northumbrian army toward us and wait for the moment my brothers strike."
The three chieftains nodded in unison. It was the ideal plan: they would secure enormous war loot, sow chaos in enemy territory, and gain formidable prestige before the great battle.
The mother and daughter, who were on horseback, the woman knew how to adapt, approached Hárekr. She wanted to speak to him, to tell him not to plunder the monasteries, but how could she ask him this? She also noticed that despite the main chieftains treating her well, there were bad eyes around.
To the Vikings, the two of them were foreigners, a whim of their warlord. They did not know that both had saved Hárekr’s life. He, noticing her anxiety, told her:
"My people feed through this. I cannot promise you anything."
He said it coldly, making her understand not to cross that line. If she asked for there to be no raids, it would simply turn morale against him, especially now. Then he said to Einar:
"We will attack King Osberht’s fortress... That little man must have died. How did I not find out about it?"
Einar, sighing, said:
"We have no contact with the Saxons..." Einar, looking at Liv, suggested to Hárekr: "We could use her to gather information inside their fortress."
Hárekr flatly refused and spoke with indignation:
"Since when do we rely on that?" "March, we will settle in front of their city, demand the king’s head, or they will be plundered entirely."
He said it without any mercy, not caring whether Liv sought to understand it.
Thorir, excited, remembered everything they had suffered thanks to that cowardly and cunning king.