Black Monastery by William Stacey Read Free Book Online Page B

of Sea Eel for all to see. Their families should have been there, cheering them off. Instead, they had skulked away in the dark of the night like thieves. Harald had barely had time to say goodbye to his father before that giant idiot Bjorn had dragged him from his home. The others didn’t want to say it, but Harald knew they had run away in the night like cowards, barely escaping the earl’s rightful vengeance. Asgrim had been a decent enough captain in his time, leading a number of profitable raids in the Kingdom of Wessex, Frisia, and once even in Breton. But that was in the past. Now, he had nothing but bad luck. Harald saw it; the others must see it, as well. And once a captain’s luck went foul, a man could do nothing but find someone else to serve.
    They had heard of the earl’s wergild soon enough at a trading camp along the Frisian coast; word had spread that quickly. Then all the men realized what Asgrim had done that night, although they had already whispered of it among themselves. No one had ever heard of such a wergild before: one hundred pieces of silver. No man could pay such a price, not even Asgrim Wood-Nose. No. He would never find so much plunder, not if he raided every single village, port, and Christian monastery in the world. Asgrim Wood-Nose would never go home again, and he would always have a price on his head. Eventually, it would catch up to him.
    Koll and Mar stood nearby, arguing about a book they held between them. They could sell the books, Harald knew, Franks paid good silver for useless junk like this, but even if they sold all of the books they’d still only make a handful of silver. Not enough, never enough. Harald shook his head and walked out of the library, letting the two men argue over scraps of paper that neither could read.
    Sunlight poured through the slit windows of the monastery, casting pools of light across the darkened hallway. As Harald walked and pondered, he considered his options. He was the son of a minor landowner, a poor farmer with progressively weaker fields. He would never, not ever be able to afford his own ship. And in all the time he had sailed with Asgrim, not once had the ugly bastard ever even given him a silver armband to reward his impressive loyalty or his considerable prowess in battle.
    Asgrim was jealous of him, Harald knew. He was a better man than that ugly freak. The others must see it, as well. This is why he always gave Harald the shit jobs and let that bastard Gorm give the orders. Asgrim hated Harald because he knew Harald would be a better captain than he would ever be. If only Harald had the chance to prove this. Harald snorted and kicked the severed head of a monk down the hallway, watching it bounce and thud off the walls before rolling to a stop.
    They were only there, so far south, because of the stupid whore. Not that Harald blamed Asgrim for what he had done. Any other man would have done the same. But then, he also didn’t really blame her for spreading her legs for another man. What woman would choose to lie with that ugly rot-nosed freak? She probably would have fucked Harald, too. He snorted at the thought of having Wood-Nose’s wife. Shame that hadn’t happened; she had been a rare beauty.
    Still, it wasn’t fair that they all had to suffer because one man couldn’t satisfy his woman. Worse, they shouldn’t be here in this gods-cursed shithole. They needed to get out before it was too late. Any sane man could see that. But that stupid bastard wouldn’t give up his useless search for treasure that didn’t exist. He would drag them all down with him.
    Unless someone else took charge.
    But they had sworn oaths. Men didn’t break oaths. No man was more dishonorable than an oath-breaker. Any man who broke an oath would go to Niflheim when he died, not Valhalla.
    But hadn’t Asgrim also sworn an oath to the earl? Didn’t killing the man’s son also make him an oath-breaker? It did. That’s why the gods had turned away from