The King of The Lochlains

By Mac Nicolson

Nikolas Goffridr sets out from his native Halogaland to win new lands for his family in the Sudreya, the Southern Isles, late in the 9th century.

Accompanied by the Giant, Njiall, his teacher in the arts of war and story teller of the trials of Odin, he encounters an unexpected ally in the Pict Druidess, Flachra. Together and with a beauti

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Macdonald Nicolson
• Release date: Feb 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9789895328642

Mac Nicolson

Mac Nicolson was born and raised on a farm in the middle of Tasmania, was gratefully expelled from boarding school at fourteen and after a series of childhood mystical experiences and with the impending possibility of having to go into the army and kill people for whom he harbored no ill will, left for India when only nineteen. He passed the next five years travelling the long since separated lands of ancient Gondwana - India and South America - searching for answers to the mysteries of existence before returning to Australia to start a community. Mac's time in Australia included a stint as a City Councilor and political activist, a columnist for a local news journal, a snake catcher, a horse breeder and tamer and a forest regenerator but after fifteen years or more and after raising a few children he began to venture back to India and Brazil, until settling in Brazil with his then Brazilian wife. Mac never planned to be a novelist and claims no great ability - he simply had a desire to share the stories that flowed out from a past that had both inspired and haunted him, each of which had first appeared to him in dreams and visions to be then confirmed by chance meetings with shamans, witches, and random fellow travelers. In all of his writings, the author strives to adhere to historical authenticity and many of the characters in his books are based on real people and events, as in The King of The Lochlains and The Sun Dancer, and in the case of his first book, The Asva Sani of Khasi, based on the story of that great Indian epic, The Mahabharata. His fourth book, The Road to Ndawo, recounts a series of stories from the current dream that we call real life and includes the culmination of his inner search along with the karmic tale of his love of a woman. The Road to Ndawo, at times, touches subtly upon his past life memories as they are told within the first three books. His fifth book, Henne's List, is pure fiction that explores in-depth, Mac's life experiences and musings on the mysteries of existence, quantum physics and parallel universes - in a rambling tale that crosses continents and time where characters jump out from the pages of his other books. Mac currently resides in Portugal with his Argentinian partner of five years, Claudia Escobar, a textile artist, and is beginning work on his next book, 'The Secrets of Dona Eiliva', inspired by the story of Claudia's grandmother, a rural town doctor and healer and ardent Peronist who married five times.

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Chapter 1

The Isle of Skey

The wind is kind tonight, thought Nikolas, and so too Ran, who has answered our prayers well.

Ran, the goddess of the sea. He had prayed to her along with Odin before the voyage. He had prayed to Ran and to Njordur, the God of the sea, wind and the fishes, but Ran would survive Ragnarök while her consort, Njordur, would not, but nor would Odin survive.

Nikolas found that hard to understand that the king of all the gods, the mighty Odin, would not survive the rebirth of the world but then, Ran was the sea and during the doom of Ragnarök, the sea would cover the earth and drown it all so it could be reborn anew.

We also, he pondered, are being born anew - sailing to a new shore, and Nikolas’ heart beat just a little faster in anticipation of meeting the responsibility of winning for his family not treasure this time, but new lands for their people - Skey, his uncle had named it on his return from laying waste to the hated Christians at the Kirk of Iona and plundering all its riches in the process.

Nikolas held in his hand the rough map his uncle had sketched for him. Twice Thorikr Grjotgardsson had journeyed to Iona and one time he had landed on the Island of Skey but they had been beaten back by the Picts, and wisely choosing not to risk their treasure, had decided on retreat.

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But now it was Nikolas’ turn to face the will of the Gods and the future of his people lay in his young hands. At sixteen he was a fully grown and trained warrior and a giant of a man already who suffered but one man on board the langrskip taller than he.

He turned to that very man now, who stood alongside Nikolas at the prow of the boat. He could see in the semi darkness to the starboard side, the langrskip captained by a younger uncle, Thorfinr Eysteinssen as he did so.

Njiall, do you think there was any danger of us having being sighted as we passed the Orkneys.

No, not a chance, it was too dark already, the big man answered before asking, how long before we reach the island of Ljodhus?

By my reckoning, another three hours if the wind keeps up, answered Nikolas. the most northern islands of the Sudreyar should be approaching in half that time.

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The race amongst the Kingdoms of Norwey to claim what they called the Southern Islands, the Sudreyar, was now on in earnest and the Kingdom of Halogaland was keen to stake its right to the last remaining island of considerable size still held by the Picts, the Isle of Skey. With the Kingdoms growing too populous for the amount of arable land available to them their interest in the islands of the Sudreyar to the West had evolved from atonement and plunder to settlement. Already the Kingdoms of Ringerilke and Oppland had settlements in the Orkneys and it was heard that the Boendr of other Norse houses were discussing transforming their longphorts, their winter holds, into more permanent settlements.

Nikolas, with his reputation and fame riding on the success of this mission was determined to stamp the seal of his house on Skey and win glory for his name within the family.

We should reach Skey by dawn, he said half to himself, half to Njiall.

My axe is getting agitated already, I can feel it, replied his friend with an expression that could have been interpreted as either a smile or else, a grimace.

Shortly after this brief conversation the wind began to die forcing Nikolas to shout the order for the men to begin rowing. Immediately bodies began to rise from their furs on the deck where they had been either dozing or murmuring to each other in low tones, unable to sleep. Pushing their boxes into position athwartships and sliding the oars through the holes below the gunnels the raiders of the sea began to dip the heavy wooden blades into the black waters and pull in unison with their mighty arms.

Not ideal, thought Nikolas, they would arrive tired from their exertion when he needed them to be primed for the fight.

What do you think, Njiall? we could put into Ljodhus and wait out the morning?

Njiall, not a man to answer without lengthy consideration stood at the prow pondering, scratching his bushy reddish-brown beard and peering into the gloom for a full two minutes before answering Nikolas.

That we could, another long pause followed before Njiall continued, but there is danger in that because we know that the long island is full of the Agadir from time to time.

The Agadir, considered Nikolas.

They were one of the reasons his kingdom of Halogaland had sent Nikolas on this adventure in the first place.

Halfdan the Black, the King of Agder was an ambitious leader who was setting about subjugating the smaller realms of Norwey. Just last year he had defeated the brothers Sigtryg and Eystein Eysteinsenn and now ruled in Hedmark as well. The realms of Norwey had been fiercely independent since Odin had led them to the North and given them lands to settle and prosper. Yes, they raided and settled disputes with sometimes bloody battles or sometimes legendary contests between two of the bravest and strongest or even settled things with a long meeting that could last for days and end with drunken feasts but rarely had a rival King claimed the entire territory of another for his own, a development that had greatly concerned Queen Sigvin who ruled after the death of Nikolas’ father - and in the absence of Nikolas’ older brother, Hakon.

Hakon’s lengthy time spent away from the kingdom that he should rightly be ruling had been a matter of grave concern. As was the custom of the Northmen they would often send the eldest son to be raised by the families of royalty in neighboring kingdoms and to Agder, Hakon had been sent as a boy and first fostered by the father of Halfdan the Black before growing up under the tutelage of Halfdan himself.

It had been years since Nikolas or his mother had been able to see Hakon and relationships with the Agadir had become poisoned with suspicion and mistrust. They did not know any more if Hakon was prisoner or turned to foe.

It seemed like folly at first to Nikolas for his mother to send him with the cream of Halogaland’s best fighting men on an adventure to the Sudreyar, but there they could live as free men if the danger from Agder and the possible treachery of Hakon proved to eventuate. Nikolas’ mind was made.

We will press on then, through the night, Nikolas decided and turning to Njiall gave the command.

Njiall, pass the call from ship to ship to row all the way if needs be.

The giant of a man bellowed the order across to the Langrskip of Thorfinr and from there the command could be heard passing from ship to ship each time fainter as the voices carried over the sea from further away.

As it turned out, at around one in the morning, the wind shifted with a cold front blowing in from the southwest picking up the waves but while it was hard going the angle of the wind that they now sailed into was enough to enable the fleet to tack on a steady course south.

They called from ship to ship throughout the night, struggling to remain in close contact and at one point Nikolas thought they had lost one of their number but as the first hint of light appeared in the sky, they could see it further towards the now visible coastline of an island to the east.

Lucky it avoided the rocks - there must be many half-submerged rocks along that shore, observed Nikolas to Njiall.

Yes, that would be the Langrskip of Randulfr - he will bring her around now that he will have sighted us.

The light is coming upon us Njiall, I would have liked to have reached Skey by now.

The Gods choose our fate, Nikolas, not us - we will be there soon enough and at least the winds have not blown us off course, nor has Ran demanded of us a sacrifice of one of our ships.

At that moment a cry came from the langrskip farthest to the starboard.

There, Njiall was now pointing through the gloom as Nikolas strained his eyes and sure enough, emerging from the sea as if it were a great sea monster with a long back and several great heads rising in the form of mountains to the southeast, the island began to emerge from the darkness in front of them.

A light - I need to study the drawing of the Island, shouted Nikolas in the vague direction of his thrall, Bjatr, whom he knew to be not too far away.

The smaller, darker man scrambled to Nikolas’ side and kneeling beneath the prow of the snake headed langrskip to shelter from the wind he began to strike a flint on his tightly bunched wad of straw dipped in whale oil. The resultant flame magically lit the faces of the two big men at the prow, giants amongst their own. Nikolas’ face was long with a large intelligent forehead and an equally long and slightly hooked nose that suited his overall features. His long golden hair was plaited in a single plait that hung halfway down his back but at sixteen the only semblance of a beard was a downy darker fluff that began half way down his jaw to form a slightly pointed imitation of one on his chin. Nikolas’ roughly handsome face creased his forehead as he knelt and squinted to study the crude drawings of his uncle.

He stood up after a short while, his eyes attempting to pierce in to the gathering light at the looming shape of the Island, knowing that the decisions that he was about to make would mean the difference between success and failure.

Below the cliffs, there to the west, is where we will take five of our ships, Njiall,

And the others? asked Njiall.

That bay further around the west of the island should be where the settlement lies - the other five will wait just off shore to draw attention to themselves right where they can be seen.

Njiall looked sideways at his younger commander. The dawn was now gathering speed and the element of surprise waning he thought. But Njiall was admiring of Nikolas’ battle plan. The young Jarl had been well schooled by his father and uncles and had proven himself in raids on smaller settlements back in Norwey. Nikolas was always thinking about things and eager to experiment, Njiall had observed.

And how long do you think it will take us to reach the settlement from that cove, Nikolas?

Maybe two hours, it doesn't really matter - when we reach the settlement, I would expect that all of their men will be on the shore ready to engage Thorfinr and his five ships.

So long as they don’t see our half of the fleet heading for the cove - let’s give the order to separate now, Nikolas.

Nikolas nodded to Njiall, the giant appearing to grow another foot taller as he straightened and filled out his huge chest and bellowed the order through his great bushy beard.

The ships began to separate and as Thorfinr’s langrskip passed close by his uncle motioned to the finger of land protruding in the distance and Nikolas responded with a wave.

Thorfinr, the oldest and most experienced of the captains had been on the raids with Thorikr Grjotgardsson all those years ago when little more than a boy and his memories of the island would be invaluable on this mission. Thorfinr was his mother’s younger brother. Adventurous and light of heart he had been married more than once and had fathered the children of other men’s wives it was said as well. The first to the feast and the last to leave, the women loved him but trouble and argument was his constant companion while in the towns of Halogaland. It was at sea that his skill stood out and at sea he became focused and almost serious yet he joked endlessly about his love affair with Ran, the Goddess of the sea, saying it was her love of him that brought his ships fair winds and luck. Nikolas watched as Thorfinr led five of the langrskips around the point towards the large bay, still a shadowy outline of coast in the half light of early dawn. He felt confident in the company of Njiall and Thorfinr. Very different men but invaluable in each of their own ways.

Njiall was a giant amongst giants but unlike the myth of the giants of few words, given enough encouragement, Njiall could talk and under the influence of an ale could talk most men under the table. His subjects of discussion could range from the finer points of milking a cow and the skill required to hone an axe to the philosophical attributes of the gods themselves. All would be discussed with equal animation and as he drank his great meaty hands would begin to gesticulate in all directions in excitement. There was a time when a drinking companion at his side was leveled unconscious on the floor, a victim of a sudden and wild wave of the hand as Njiall made his point about the story of Thor reviving his goats.

The story went like this,

On one of his many journeys throughout the Nine Worlds, Thor, in his goat drawn chariot, stopped at the house of a farmer to spend the night. Wanting to repay his host for his hospitality, Thor slaughtered the two goats who drove his chariot for dinner. He laid the hides out and instructed the farmer and his family to set the bones from the meat in the hides. They all did this, except for the farmer’s son Thjalfi, who cracked one of the thighbones open to suck out the marrow.

The next morning, Thor rose early and hallowed the hides with his hammer. His goats came back to life as strong and healthy as before, except that one of them had a bad limp. Thor flew into a rage and would have smote the family then and there with his hammer, had they not pleaded with him to spare their lives, offering him any atonement he desired. They agreed that the god should take Thjalfi and Roskva, the farmer’s two children, as his servants. And they accompanied him until Ragnarök, winning honor by aiding him in many great deeds.

And that, Njiall had shouted with a violent wave of his left arm that smote the man next to him, is a lesson that a man must pay every attention to each word spoken by the gods and must understand the importance of every detail spoken with an order.

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The five langrskips commanded by Nikolas dropped their sails and edged along the base of the cliff to enter the cove. The beach was stony and small but large enough for five ships to be hauled to the shore and anchored. The danger lay only in the weather which if it turned foul and drove the sea to a fury could wreck the langrskips in short time as the cove offered only limited protection.

Well, thought Nikolas, if that happens, we have no choice but to win victory today.

Over two hundred and fifty men pitched themselves over board in the shallows and hauled the ships halfway up their length on to the shore.

Njiall barked orders for a handful to remain with the ships, the captains and seafarers, mostly - older men brought along for their seamanship.

There was a rough and little used track that led up the steep incline at the head of the cove. Nikolas' heart beat faster with the effort and with the anticipation of battle but he collected his thoughts nevertheless.

Thorfinr should be in the bay in front of the settlement in close to an hours' time and all going well, the Picts would be focused on the shore readying for their attack.

These Picts on Skey were known for their ferocity and it was not for no good reason that they had retained their independence from marauding Norsemen from other houses - and from the Christian kingdom of the isles to the south, the Kingdom of Dalriada.

Reaching the top of the incline and following the coast line to the southeast there was a track of sorts.

Probably used mostly by herders, thought Nikolas, his eyes roaming about the scenery before him. The hills swept steadily down to the sea and were bathed in colors and hues from grasses, heather and flowers, the like of which Nikolas had never seen before. Thick forest capped the hill tops and ran down the gullies but it was the rich abundance of growth on the plateaus and gentle slopes that immediately impressed the young man.

This will be great farming country Njiall.

Aye, it will be at that, the giant replied, but first we must win it must we not? the big man laughed as he raised his axe and ran his finger delicately along the sharply honed edge.

But the conquest of new farming lands had not been the first thoughts of the Norsemen a generation ago when Ragnar Lodbrock had raided the east coast while plundering the Christians halls and murdering their holy men, and nor when shortly after, uncle Thorikr Grotgardsson had attacked the Christians at Iona further to the south of Skey. Nor was it the plunder in the first instance that incited the Norsemen, though that quickly became a welcome discovery and fuel for further raids. No, it was the intrusion of the Christian holy men into the fjords of Norwey that had lit the flames of war. The Christians had arrived in the settlements of Raumarike, Halogaland, Oppland and Telemark and while they had been initially welcomed as guests, they had proceeded to arrogantly insult the Norse gods and had commanded the Norsemen convert to their Christian god. The Kings and Jarls had sought counsel from their own seers, the Vulvar who had warned them of the impending doom that would be wrought by these people, advising them to feign interest in their religion so they could be led to the worm's nests – and to then destroy them.

And that is how the first langrskips of the Norsemen had come to the shores of Iona and Lindisfarne, had butchered the false prophets and had delighted in the discovery and subsequent plunder of their gold.

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Nikolas’ thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the cry of a white-tailed sea eagle as it swept down to a rocky outcrop on the shoreline clutching a rabbit in its talons. The sea was still and calm and as they rounded another hill and came closer to the shore, for the first time enabling a sighting of the five langrskips commanded by Thorfinr rowing steadily through the wide bay, their sails now lowered with the loss of the breeze, the oarsmen cutting through the flat waters at a good pace nevertheless.

They would surely have been sighted by the Picts already, he thought.

A little further on and the small army of Norsemen startled a red buck that had been busily rubbing its antlers on a boulder, the clack clacking sound of the animal's preoccupation having been heard for a full minute before. As it bolted up the hill Nikolas wished he had the time to loosen an arrow and bring down the buck. He relished the thought of roast venison and the idea made him aware of his hunger so he decided to call a halt and allow the men to rest and eat before heading on to the looming fight. As much as it made him feel anxious to not keep going, he calmed his nerves in favor of what he chose to be best for his men.

The chosen spot was a small plateau that held a view to the sea if one stood upright but was mostly shielded from sight by a shallow depression strewn with boulders and clumps of heather. The langrskips had since passed out of sight after rounding a bend in the bay.

Good, they will be already drawing all the attention of the Picts, he thought.

Nikolas looked around to his men and saw a sudden relief had come over them, being able to relax in the occasional warmth of a morning sun that broke through puffs of cloud and disappeared again. They began to devour the small packets of dried meat and fish which they washed them down with flasks of sour milk and ale.

Some chatted nervously. Others were silent and kept to themselves. Still others appeared to show no fear at all and lay with their backs to boulders toying with their axes and swords, checking the straps on their shields with an air of nonchalance.

They were the ones most confident in their faith, thought Nikolas, sure that the Valkyries awaited them in death.

Nikolas knew enough of their lore to know that the Valkyries are often accompanied by ravens so he was startled all of a sudden when his thoughts were followed by the realization that he was looking one in the face.

The bird stood on top of the furthermost rock on the plateau closest to the sea and was eyeing him keenly. He threw it a small morsel of meat which landed at the foot of the rock but the bird ignored it while continuing to study Nikolas intently.

It began to make him feel ill at ease so he leaned forward to pick up a stone but halfway through the motion of throwing it he stopped and held his arm. Something told him not to.

The bird spread its wings and flew away silently.

Did you see that Njiall?

I did - and I don’t fully know what to make of it though I have heard that the Vulvar can use them to spy on people.

I heard also that the Valkyries are wont to appear before a battle as Ravens,

Nikolas and Njiall turned to see Finni had walked up behind them casually holding his helm and sword in the same hand while scratching vigorously at his limp, brown and thinning hair. A smallish man for a Norseman with craggy features that along with the sparsity of hair made him look older than his thirty-five years. Finni had the habit of correcting Njiall if he thought that Njiall had gotten some part of a story wrong during a drinking session and the two would banter and then abuse each other and even threaten violence one on the other but it would come to naught,

and count ourselves fortunate that that one opened its mouth and flapped its wings because if it had not of done so we would all be doomed, concluded Finni with a convincing nod of his rolled and bristly chin.

Your wrong Finni, countered Njiall, that one was spying on us, and the Valkyries appear as ravens right before a battle where the fighting is to be done - not before we get to the battle.

Nikolas had heard enough.

"Time to move