The Last Marigold

King Thorod

Wolfgard and his men arrived at Durham near King Thorod's fortress. He left his home, making the journey to pay homage his liege lord after the summer raids. His men had ferried the majority of the bounty they'd acquired ahead of them along with Prince Orm to Durham.

The many years he'd known King Thorod, the old man had always been kindly towards him. Treating him as well he did his own sons. After Wolfgard's mother died giving birth to his sister, King Thorod and his wife Sigrid raised him in his father's stead when he was away on raids. He was grateful for all they'd done and looked upon them with love and admiration. It was saddened him to see his king grow frail with age and all his sons except Orm had gone before him to Valhalla.

Wolfgard knew little to nothing of Solveig. She was much younger, a girl of perhaps only fifteen winters. He left when she was still small. he had already been raiding and fighting with his father for many a year after she had grown. He did not understand why his father mentioned nothing of marriage to Solveig. Marriage was not a thing he had ever considered prior to be named Jarl. A greater part of his heart was hesitant in it's partaking.

They passed the main gate and approached the hall. It was a grand place with solid defenses, though its beauty did not equal that of Uppsala. King Thorod, Queen Sigrid, stood at the top of the stairs awaiting them with smiling, happy faces. Prince Orm stood, lurking near his father. Orm's sharklike dark eyes fixed on him with disdain. His men stood on either side as he spun on his heel and stalked off sulking.

Wolfgard slowly peregrinated through the lightly falling snow with Alrik at his side. "I see the prince still has not warmed to you."

"Keep your teeth together, Alrik. I will not be schooled by a silk-swaddled perfumed boy," Wolfgard responded before greeting Thorod and Sigrid.

"Greetings, Lord King," He said. Thorod descended the stairs as quickly as his aching legs could carry him.

"Let me look at you Wolfgard," Thorod said, his voice brimming with pride. "You have grown into a fine man. A very fine man indeed. Sigvat can hold his head high in Vahalla seeing the son he's left behind." Thorod threw his stout arms around Wolfgard squeezing him against his rotund figure. Thorod had once been a powerful warlord, though what remained of his strength was still evident despite his age. His skills with an ax were legendary. It was said that he could cleave a man in twain with one powerful swing. Over the years he'd grown fat and slow. But, there was fire and life still in those bright blue eyes. His once raven hair was mostly white, matching his wooly beard. 

"I thank you, good King," Wolfgard turned to Sigrid, "Queen Sigrid, has all been well?"

Sigrid was a handsome woman with greying auburn hair the dangled to her waist and powder blue eyes, "Yes, Lord but it grows even better now that you've come. Come, Jarl Wolfgard we have prepared a feast. I was sure to make all your favorites."

The feasting had gone well into the night when King Thorod cleared his throat and suddenly spoke. Seated on his throne next to his wife, he clutched her hand while he addressed Wolfgard, the crowd listened intently.

"Wolfgard, son of my heart. You are one of my greatest and most loyal Jarls. This is why I must ask more of you though you have just returned." A seriousness claimed his features that made Wolfgard tense with anticipation.

"Speak your wish Lord and it will be done," Wolfgard replied.

"Jarl Cnut, further south near Mercia is making threatening noises. He seeks the kingdom for himself and plots against me. He commands a sizable fyrd and has allied himself with the Saxons." A hush fell over the crowd as everyone now eagerly listened. Jarl Cnut was a brutal cutthroat. His reputation as a swordsman, a marauder, and a Jarl reached Wolfgard's ear even as a child. His father had always said that he should never face a man like Cnut in single combat. The man was like a berserker, fearless, and felt no pain.