Rolf shouted as he dashed into the vaulted hall of Dorestad castle, “Ragnar, the Franks overran our camp at Nijmegen, now they’re headed here. Has the Jester sailed?” Rolf steadied himself and set his helmet on the oak trestle table. Blood streamed from his leather sleeve and pooled beneath his arm.
“The Jester sailed yesterday,” Ragnar called, leaning heavily on his cane as he entered the hall. “She took the skalds with her. She said they’d go to Kirkwall for supplies then meet us at Dun Aengus.”
“Dun Aengus.” Rolf winced and dropped his head to his chest. “They’ll trap her there. Thorvald’s joined the Franks. He knows our plans—they’ll send ships straight away. Did the scrolls go with her?”
“Only the meister scroll. She left the proselyte scrolls and the fool’s cap for Áedán to bring in the Karvi longship.”
Rolf looked confused. “The Karvi’s at the bottom of the inlet. As I rode in, I saw the mast and crosstree sloping from the water off the end of the pier.”
“Áedán took an ax to the hull then cut her loose before he ran off.” Ragnar pulled a gnarled hand down over his gray beard. “Áedán left his training materials. Said the fool’s cap never worked for him anyway. He didn’t want anything that would link him to the Jester.” Unsteady, Ragnar sought a chair alongside the table and sat. “All the materials are safe, packed for shipping before Áedán went on his rampage, the trunk sealed inside and out.”
Rolf pressed burning sweat from his eyes, reclaimed his helmet, and lifted a long-shafted, battle-ax from a crossed display on the stone wall. “I’ll try to hold them at the Dorestad gate. You have the servants bury thetrunk somewhere on the grounds. Don’t tell me where. The Franks will keep me alive and try to make me talk. When you’re done, arm yourself and the others and join me at the gate.” He cut the air with a wide sweep of the ax.
“We’ll meet the Jester in Valhalla.”
Twelve hundred years later, next week’s blog post,
read how the trunk is discovered and opened.