Page 2 of Merciful Salvation

Although half the country claimed devotion to Christ, the dream of joining Odin’s army remained an obsession in adolescent boys. According to the king and Church, Odin didn’t exist. Yet his name was etched on every young man’s heart. Aaron sipped his wine. By any rational estimation, the king’s efforts in the north would continue to be sabotaged. The Trondelag was no closer to conversion than Jerusalem. “How many captains will you give me?”

“Two.”

Two?Three men, no matter how seasoned in battle, couldn’t possibly train two thousand recruits within the short time Olaf expected.The king’s dreams were commendable, but his masons couldn’t construct a cathedral without proper tools any more than three captains could build an army. Damn, Olaf’s blind ambition. Turning water into wine seemed less of a miracle. How was he going to find suitable recruits for a Christian king amongst the pagans?

He’d try—even if it cost him his life.

“When do I leave, milord?”

Olaf stared, as if he expected Aaron to know already. “Tomorrow.”

Early in the morning, Aaron headed to Agni Rohm’s chamber first. He pounded on the door, then smiled when he heard the man stumble out of bed.

Agni reeked of spirits. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot. “I can only recall two other occasions when you darkened my doorway at this ungodly hour.”

“I’ve come to recruit you for the field, old friend.”

Agni stared at him. “If it doesn’t involve slaying Saxons or fucking women, I’m inclined to sayno.” A known ravisher without a family of his own, Agni lived for battle.

“There’s more to life—”

“Judging by the pained expression on your face,” Agni interrupted. “The king must be responsible for whatever task you’ve been assigned.”

“Aye,” Aaron said. “And for him, you’ll bathe, dress, and meet me outside within the hour.”

Agni sighed and raked his fingers through his long hair. “I’ll accept because I look forward to seeing you humbled. Unless the king has put you in charge of his harem—I suppose my life of leisure is over.”

“Do you really prefer the comfort of Olaf’s court over the glory of the field?”

“I preferhis women.”

Aaron couldn’t fault him for that—the perfumed ladies in Oslowere much prettier and decidedly softer than country lasses. Although, Agni pursued anything in skirts. “One hour,” he reminded his friend before departing.

As his second captain, Aaron chose Varinn Jorgensen, a man he served with in Nidaros. The warrior was unusually soft spoken for a Norseman, but underneath his mild façade loomed a brother Berserker. Varinn also seemed to know the future, a talent Aaron intended to take advantage of. He found him in the great hall.

“I’ve need of your military expertise.” Aaron joined him at his table.

Varinn drank the remainder of his wine, then wiped his knuckles across his mouth before answering. “To organize a new regiment for the king?”

“Goddamnit Varinn, give a man a chance to finish speaking his mind.”

His complaint drew a smile. “Why? I’ve been expecting you for days.”

“I don’t know what forces of evil you cavort with in the middle of the night when no one is watching, but I’ll be damned if you aren’t the greatest prophet I’ve ever met.”

Varinn threw his head back and laughed so raucously, thralls ceased working and stared at them. “Perhaps that is the greatest reason to include me in this venture.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t about to admit anything. He poured himself a cup of wine, then saluted his friend. “I am truly grateful you are here.”

“Aye.” Varinn slammed his fists on the tabletop.

By late morning, Aaron’s riding party, which included six thralls and two fully loaded horse-drawn carts, were ready to depart. Little sunlight filtered through the thick clouds as he led his group out of the city. He raised the fur collar on his cloak. Spring in the Norselands was bitter, with frigid gales whipping off the fjords. He twisted in his saddle and stared back at the water. A longship would have been a bettermanner of transport, but they’d miss potential recruits if they sailed. Olaf provided gold and letters of authorization for Aaron to draft men as he chose. The coastal town of Floro would be their first stop. Fishermen raised sons who hauled heavy nets fourteen hours a day—potential soldiers.

After many hours of riding, they stopped to eat. Two female servants prepared, then served, bowls of lamb stew and bread. Halfway through his meal, Agni openly admired the backside of the youngest slave. “I’m glad you chose an attractive split tail to serve us on the road.” He gestured at Aaron. “I dare say I can read her thoughts, too.”

“And what would they be?” Varinn indulged him.

“She wants to fornicate with me.”