"Son of Lagertha, I fought at her side when the Jarls united to stop the Svear (Swedes) from entering Norway."
Hárekr nodded respectfully. He knew well the tales of that war from years past, when the king of the Svear tried to conquer Norwegian territories and the coalition of all the Jarls rose up in arms to block the invaders’ path, eventually forcing him to retreat.
Then, Jarl Geirr asked, seeking to probe the true purpose of Hárekr’s journey:
"Lagerthuson, what is your request for our humble island?"
Hárekr perceived the intention immediately and replied directly, without beating around the bush or paying homage:
"Give me levies. I will raid parts of the southern coasts of the Pictish lands, near the border with Northumbria, and then I will join the army of the sons of Ragnarr."
He revealed part of his plans, but kept the strategic details to himself.
Hearing this, Jarl Einar intervened with vehemence:
"You may have my entire army, I will join you. Son of Lagertha, Valhalla awaits me!"
He said it with renewed enthusiasm. At nearly fifty-five years old and having lost his sons in battle, he had no more ties or regrets in this life. He wanted to seal his fate in a final journey he considered worthy.
Geirr, seeing that his rival was handing over all his forces without hesitation, smiled with pleasure, believing that his own plan to conserve his troops would work. He added with indifference:
"I can give you a few men... but I will keep the majority to protect Hjaltland."
Einar observed him and let out a sigh of disdain. He found Geirr’s foolishness unbelievable: did he truly believe that Lagertha’s son had sailed all the way there to ask for favors nicely?
Hárekr confirmed the old Jarl’s thoughts and demanded of Geirr flatly:
"At no point did I ask you a favor. All the troops of Hjaltland will join me. There is no other discussion."
Hearing Hárekr speak with the firmness of a true Viking leader, the warriors of the fjord, including Torstein and Thorir, smiled with emotion. Those conversing with the locals fell silent immediately and turned toward the scene, anticipating that a battle might ensue. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Geirr let out a mocking laugh and replied:
"A brat whose beard hasn’t even grown speaks with too much authority."
Hárekr stared at him. Far from being offended, he simply considered him a fool. He kept his calm and asked briefly:
"Do you agree or not?"
Geirr, feeling challenged in front of his people, made him an offer:
"If you beat my son Barni in a hólmganga (duel of honor), you will have my entire fleet. If not, go cry in the deepest fjords."
Thorir, hearing the word "duel," grew excited instantly and spoke to Hárekr with brusque enthusiasm:
"Let me fight."
Hárekr looked at him and firmly shook his head. He unhooked the heavy axe he carried attached to his belt and faced Jarl Geirr:
"Let him come."
Immediately, the space for combat was organized. The crowd of warriors began to gather in a circle on the banks of the landing site, leaving the ground clear for the hólmganga.
Old Einar sighed as he contemplated Hárekr’s courage in measuring himself against a man of greater physical experience, though he trusted the boy would not fall so easily. Looking at his old acquaintance Torstein, he asked in a low voice:
"Does he already know whose son he is?"
Einar knew Lagertha’s story perfectly. Torstein replied with serenity:
"Yes. But he did not undertake this journey just for that. This boy is different from all of us."
The old Jarl nodded, pleased, as he watched the two contenders take their positions. Barni, gripping his weapon, provoked him with a mocking smile:
Hárekr kept his gaze fixed on him and completely ignored him; the man’s boasts meant nothing.
Feeling ignored and challenged, Barni made the first attack, lunging with his axe. Both combatants faced each other bare-chested, without any shield to protect them from the blades.
Barni attacked first with a war cry, swinging his axe in a downward slash aimed at splitting Hárekr in two.
Hárekr did not block the blow directly; without a shield, the impact could have shattered his own axe or destabilized his guard. Instead, he used the agility he had perfected over the years and deflected the enemy’s attack by striking the back of his axe against the handle of Barni’s, while taking a quick sidestep. Barni’s weapon cut the air inches from Hárekr’s chest.
The crowd erupted in shouts: some cheered for their local champion, while others were impressed by Hárekr’s reflexes.
Those who knew Hárekr knew he often feigned apparent weakness to make the enemy lower his guard. And so it was. Barni, confident upon seeing that Hárekr only dodged, took even greater risks, seeking to connect with the same slash, this time over the young Norwegian’s head.
Hárekr saw the opportunity immediately and lunged at his enemy’s chest, making him lose his guard completely. He then delivered an axe blow with extreme speed, opening a fierce wound across his torso.
Jarl Geirr watched the scene, gritting his teeth. He knew in that instant that his son was going to lose his life; he saw it coming clearly. Everyone present already considered the fight over, for the wound was extremely grave. However, for Barni, it did not end there: bleeding out, he refused to surrender and began launching desperate, blind slashes, seeking at least to take Hárekr with him to Valhalla.
Hárekr, understanding that those brutal attacks were the last gasps of his opponent, simply dodged them with cold blood. To put an end to his agony, the blade of his axe cut cleanly through Barni’s neck, taking his life on the spot.
Geirr, seeing his son fall onto the sand, showed no rancor toward Hárekr. After all, that was what a hólmganga was for. He maintained his composure and declared before the crowd:
"Let the warriors make their decisions."
Hárekr looked at him in silence. Far from feeling compassion, he remained between exhausted and admiring of the old Jarl’s fortitude. He turned to Torstein and ordered:
"Prepare a room for me to rest. In two days we will set sail for Saxon lands."
Everyone present began to cheer with enthusiasm. The entire island, men and some warrior women who were at the landing site, entered a state of euphoria. Despite it not being the usual season for raids, Hárekr’s victory instilled in them a blind faith in his leadership.
Do you think it’s worth continuing to write this? I love writing stories like this, because I enjoy researching one thing or another... But maybe there are things I’ll overlook. I’m not European, so if you spot something that doesn’t match real history, let me know. I’m here to learn.
And if you’re enjoying it, write about it in the comments. If I see support, I promise to upload two Chapters a day... Maybe even three? I have no problem with that!