| EDGTHEOW'S TALE |
| ©2008 Fantasy Castle Books All Rights Reserved |
| PUBLISHERS OF HISTORICAL & FANTASY FICTION |
A son of Wolfric, heir of Wægmund of the Wendels he had been, born the eldest of
his clan and destined to become its Chieftain in his time. From their earth and
woodwork fort at Vendel far abroad he roamed and many battles fought beside his
lord. Freely they plundered, taking as they would from those less strong than they, for
Northern law made slaves of any man unfortunate enough to lose a battle and live on,
and all that he once owned was claimed as spoils of war and seized by he who was the
victor: his pigs, his plows, his wife, all taken from him in a stroke, leaving just the
charred and smoking wreckage of his life behind.
Many pigs had Edgtheow claimed, and many wives had taken in his day.
Such were Edgtheow’s early years, as swiftly he had grown into a war-famed
warrior approaching manhood, and the time when he would take a mate and build a
homestead of his own upon the rich lands he had won by his sword-hand. Rich
rewards, indeed, had he been given by his lord and father, Wolfric, Chieftain of the
clan. Gold and lands enough he had already at the age of fifteen that any unwed maiden
he might choose would certainly be given gladly with her father’s blessing, and a
handsome bonding-fee to boot.
Only he awaited on his mother’s choice.
For his own part, he was more than satisfied with any number of the many wenches
he had coupled with already: Signy, Hogrid’s daughter, who had fattened up as well as
any wild boar before a feast; or Olga, the blacksmith’s only offspring, thin and wispy
though she was (but lusty and full of fire like her father); or even Gerta, Gottard’s ugly
runt, so short and stout, but sweet as summer honey like her mother Hediwig, who
cared as much for Edgtheow as she had her only son (who died in battle with the Finns
when he was only ten). But none of these were fit for Wolfric’s son, according to his
mother Wilhelmina. And with each passing battle her sights grew ever greater and her
goal more lofty for her eldest child, until such time as she was thinking he should wed
no lower than the daughter of a King.
As for Weohstan, her younger son, she cared not where he spread his seed, for he
was ever less than Edgtheow in her eyes, a thin and fleeting shadow ever nipping at his
heels. Where Edgtheow led, Weohstan was sure to follow, never one to lead himself,
but always right behind his older brother; ever at the ready with a sturdy weapon, yet
never at the forefront of a fray. To many, as to Wilhelmina, this seemed a mark of
weakness, and she was glad that Edgtheow was the elder son, for he would make a
mighty Chieftain in his time.
his clan and destined to become its Chieftain in his time. From their earth and
woodwork fort at Vendel far abroad he roamed and many battles fought beside his
lord. Freely they plundered, taking as they would from those less strong than they, for
Northern law made slaves of any man unfortunate enough to lose a battle and live on,
and all that he once owned was claimed as spoils of war and seized by he who was the
victor: his pigs, his plows, his wife, all taken from him in a stroke, leaving just the
charred and smoking wreckage of his life behind.
Many pigs had Edgtheow claimed, and many wives had taken in his day.
Such were Edgtheow’s early years, as swiftly he had grown into a war-famed
warrior approaching manhood, and the time when he would take a mate and build a
homestead of his own upon the rich lands he had won by his sword-hand. Rich
rewards, indeed, had he been given by his lord and father, Wolfric, Chieftain of the
clan. Gold and lands enough he had already at the age of fifteen that any unwed maiden
he might choose would certainly be given gladly with her father’s blessing, and a
handsome bonding-fee to boot.
Only he awaited on his mother’s choice.
For his own part, he was more than satisfied with any number of the many wenches
he had coupled with already: Signy, Hogrid’s daughter, who had fattened up as well as
any wild boar before a feast; or Olga, the blacksmith’s only offspring, thin and wispy
though she was (but lusty and full of fire like her father); or even Gerta, Gottard’s ugly
runt, so short and stout, but sweet as summer honey like her mother Hediwig, who
cared as much for Edgtheow as she had her only son (who died in battle with the Finns
when he was only ten). But none of these were fit for Wolfric’s son, according to his
mother Wilhelmina. And with each passing battle her sights grew ever greater and her
goal more lofty for her eldest child, until such time as she was thinking he should wed
no lower than the daughter of a King.
As for Weohstan, her younger son, she cared not where he spread his seed, for he
was ever less than Edgtheow in her eyes, a thin and fleeting shadow ever nipping at his
heels. Where Edgtheow led, Weohstan was sure to follow, never one to lead himself,
but always right behind his older brother; ever at the ready with a sturdy weapon, yet
never at the forefront of a fray. To many, as to Wilhelmina, this seemed a mark of
weakness, and she was glad that Edgtheow was the elder son, for he would make a
mighty Chieftain in his time.
Yet where would leaders be without their war-band at their back? Edgtheow was
well aware, as Weohstan was too, that either man was less without the other at his
side, and Edgtheow was always sure to share the spoils of war among his loyal
followers when victory was theirs, as it more than often was. But still the fame and
glory came to Edgtheow, and Weohstan was left behind when Wolfric gave rewards
and handed out his share of gold and lands.
Little by little, Weohstan began to draw away and grow resentful, letting Edgtheow
fight his battles on his own, until at last he found another path to tread that he could
call his own. Weohstan would wed into another clan and go to dwell among the
Swedes far to the north and east, as far from Wilhelmina as he could flee. And little
sorrow did she feel at his departure.
But little did she think what Fate might lay in wait for Weohstan, or for the offspring
that he bore, and how it would affect the future of their race.
So it was that Edgtheow the Red achieved great deeds and came into his manhood
certain of his Fate, leading raiding parties of his own along the Baltic coast and looking
to the day when he would be the Chieftain of his clan. Many women he had had, and
gold he gave them from his growing hoard to grace their silk-soft shoulders and adorn
their golden locks. None could stand before his crimson blade, nor stay his hand in
battle when the fiery rage came to his ruddy face. All the Middle-World was green and
new, and gold lay on the path before his feet.
Until the day when he returned from raiding in the South to find his own home only
so much ash and charcoal on the black and blood-soaked land that once had been his
father’s realm. No trace was left then of the path he’d trod so purposefully, no means
to reach his once-sure goal, for there amidst the rubble of his father’s hall the
blackened bones that once had been the people he would rule lay scattered all about the
ash-black throne. And on that throne sat Wolfric’s crown upon a black and gaping
skull, an ashen spear thrust through his jutting ribs.
And so Edgtheow had done just as his younger brother had before and turned his
back upon his own homeland, forsaking Fate, and seeking out instead another life
among another clan far from that place, for it seemed to him that there was no one left
among his kin to rule. The men lay dead about his feet, the women gone, made lawful
slaves by they who came to rape and slay while he was gone. All about him stood the
burned-out shells and smoking huts that once had housed the only friends and folk that
well aware, as Weohstan was too, that either man was less without the other at his
side, and Edgtheow was always sure to share the spoils of war among his loyal
followers when victory was theirs, as it more than often was. But still the fame and
glory came to Edgtheow, and Weohstan was left behind when Wolfric gave rewards
and handed out his share of gold and lands.
Little by little, Weohstan began to draw away and grow resentful, letting Edgtheow
fight his battles on his own, until at last he found another path to tread that he could
call his own. Weohstan would wed into another clan and go to dwell among the
Swedes far to the north and east, as far from Wilhelmina as he could flee. And little
sorrow did she feel at his departure.
But little did she think what Fate might lay in wait for Weohstan, or for the offspring
that he bore, and how it would affect the future of their race.
So it was that Edgtheow the Red achieved great deeds and came into his manhood
certain of his Fate, leading raiding parties of his own along the Baltic coast and looking
to the day when he would be the Chieftain of his clan. Many women he had had, and
gold he gave them from his growing hoard to grace their silk-soft shoulders and adorn
their golden locks. None could stand before his crimson blade, nor stay his hand in
battle when the fiery rage came to his ruddy face. All the Middle-World was green and
new, and gold lay on the path before his feet.
Until the day when he returned from raiding in the South to find his own home only
so much ash and charcoal on the black and blood-soaked land that once had been his
father’s realm. No trace was left then of the path he’d trod so purposefully, no means
to reach his once-sure goal, for there amidst the rubble of his father’s hall the
blackened bones that once had been the people he would rule lay scattered all about the
ash-black throne. And on that throne sat Wolfric’s crown upon a black and gaping
skull, an ashen spear thrust through his jutting ribs.
And so Edgtheow had done just as his younger brother had before and turned his
back upon his own homeland, forsaking Fate, and seeking out instead another life
among another clan far from that place, for it seemed to him that there was no one left
among his kin to rule. The men lay dead about his feet, the women gone, made lawful
slaves by they who came to rape and slay while he was gone. All about him stood the
burned-out shells and smoking huts that once had housed the only friends and folk that
| The following was originally included very early in Chapter 1. It was intended to give Edgtheow a back-story that would both give information for the later events concerning Weohstan, as well as some emotional attachment to a character very soon to die. The sequence was ultimately removed to avoid confusion and pick the pace up in the pivotal opening pages of the story. |