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  Claimed By A Viking

  The Northmen Series

  TS FLORENCE

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  Epilogue

  Twelve years earlier

  Rose

  Rose Draper was nine years old when she and her twin brother, Jack Draper, were beginning to learn the basics of their father’s wool business. He was the most renowned wool merchant in all of Kingston, a prosperous township on the eastern coast of England, which had a strong family name on the crown. They had one of the best harbours in the region, because of the narrow peninsula that jutted into their territory, giving it shelter from the rough, open seas. Their parents ran a large estate with many sheep. During sheering season, Rose and Jack helped their father sheer their sheep, alongside the peasants that he hired for help.

  “If you can sell one bag of wool for market price, then you can sell one hundred bags of wool for market price, and a man who can sell one hundred bags of wool is a man who will become rich,” Rose’s father would say to her and Jack. Jack never had the same interest in the business, but instead played with wooden swords with the other boys from neighbouring estates. He enjoyed sitting outside the house, carving weapons from wooden branches.

  Their father wasn’t renowned just for the high quality wool, but the beautiful garments that their mother, Elsbeth, would make out of the wool. She would dye the wool and knit beautiful long dresses and tunics, hats, hand warmers, and woollen socks that would keep her feet warm in the cold winters that their windy oceanside township experienced. Jack and Rose wore the beautiful bright coloured garments all year round. Her parents would then sell the clothes in the markets as well.

  On the first day of spring, when the markets began to open for the season, Rose and Jack would go with their mother and father down to the Kingston markets and sell their wool, before travelling up and down the eastern coast of England, going only as high as Newcastle, for going any further heightened the chance that raiding Scotsmen or Vikings would take all of their belongings.

  They would go as low as Dover, where her father would take the family to see the great white cliffs that rose up from the ocean, which Elsbeth said was a sign that god himself created these lands for them.

  “We were blessed by God with these lands,” Rose’s mother, Elsbeth, said to her as they looked out over the cliffs, the ocean crashing against the cliffs below. “These rich lands that the barbarian northmen want to take from us, which we must pray to god they never succeed in doing,” her mother would say.

  They would travel to the nunnery and donate a portion of their profit to the nuns, who worked the fields to provide for the needy.

  “Without nuns and priests, the world would surely be a darker place, for they care for the sick and injured when others would not,” her mother told her.

  Rose and Jack would make friends with other children on their travels, and children always wanted to touch and wear their clothes, for Rose and Jack always had clothes as fine as those worn by princes and princesses. Jack was especially close to a girl in Newcastle called Isla. Since he was only five years old, Jack would race up the streets of Newcastle until he found Isla playing in the great hall of her father’s castle. They would play together, talking non-stop and laughing. Even Isla and her father, the famous Duke Henry, would buy the famous woollen clothing from Rose’s parents.

  ten years earlier

  Rose and Jack’s mother and father had the most successful season of their lives in the Spring when they turned eleven years old. They had bought an extra fifty sheep from the last season’s profits, and now they were headed to Newcastle, the richest township and castle, to sell their season’s haul. After selling the first season’s harvest alone would put them back in front of where they were just last season, her father said. Rose didn’t quite understand how they weren’t already ahead for they had so many beautiful sheep, but it made her happy to see her mother and father happy.

  “Jack will stay here and look after you,” Rose’s father said to Elsbeth, “and Rose will come with me. We will return upon selling all of the wool, and then we will stay for as long as it takes for you to get better, my love,” Rose’s father said. He was deeply in love with their mother; he always had been. It was one of the benefits of simply being a rich trader, for he could marry for love instead of seeking out strong families to form alliances with.

  “Rose and Jack, you can go play with the young Duchess Isla, but be back before lunch, for we must depart today,” Rose’s father said to the siblings. They were already running up the street as he finished his sentence.

  Rose took Jack by his hand as they ran up the uneven cobbled road that led to Newcastle’s castle. The guards, recognising the children of the rich merchant, let them pass by without remark.

  “Rose, Jack!” The young duchess, Isla, called out to the two siblings.

  “Isla,” they called back.

  “How was your winter?” She asked them both.

  “Good. We have a present for you,” Rose said.

  Rose handed her a bright red knitted jumper, causing Isla to squeal with delight.

  “Your mother made this?” She asked.

  “Yes!” Rose said.

  Isla put the jumper on, pulling lightly at the edges, admiring the fine knitting and colour. After a brief period of excited chatter, the three of them went into the streets to find others to play with. Several boys were playing with a ball, which was a rare thing to see and had other children around them buzzing with excitement.

  “Where did you get that?” Rose asked the boy who was holding onto the ball.

  “Me dad makes em,” the boy said.

  The boy was wearing a ratty tunic that had holes in the front from rolling on the ground.

  “Do you have any more?” Rose asked.

  “Yep, but we don’t give em away,” the boy said.

  “Can I meet your father?” Rose asked.

  “‘Course, he is just round the corner,” he said, taking Rose’s hand.

  A group of excited children followed them, fighting over the leather ball that was the size of a grown man’s head. Rose saw the boy’s father in a small cottage, sitting at a table, making more balls. There was a small pile of them in the corner of the cottage, which Rose assumed he intended to sell or trade.

  “That’s him,” the boy said, before he ran back down the road with the rest of the children. Isla and Jack stayed with Rose as she stood at the door, waiting for the man to look up.

  “I don’t give these away for free,” he said, without looking up.

  “I wasn’t asking for a free ball,” Rose said, causing the man to look up.

  His eyes widened, and his hands stopped moving as he looked at Isla.

  “I beg your forgiveness, Duchess, would you like a ball?” He asked.

  “No, thank you,” Isla said, smiling, as she looked to Rose.

  The man then looked from Jack to Rose, evidently surprised at the quality of clothing that they wore, for they were certainly better off than he was. And if that were the case, then he knew that the other two children must come from a powerful family.

  “Would you accept new clothes in exchange for a ball?” Rose asked.

  “I can’t take a child’s clothes,” the man said.

  “My father would give you the clothes. He’s a wool merchant,” Rose said.

  “I see…. Well, if your father is interested in a trade, then I would be more than willing to discuss business,” the man said, standing up with h
is half-completed ball in his hands.

  “I’ll be back,” Rose said, before turning to run back towards the cottage that her mother and father were staying in.

  Rose’s mother was lying in the bed, sipping on a chicken broth soup, as Rose entered their cottage.

  “Father, there is a man selling balls in the town, they are fantastic balls, the size of a man’s head! He said he would trade a ball for some of our clothes,” Rose said to her father.

  “Sweetie, we don’t come to Newcastle to trade our wool and knitted clothes for child’s toys. One shirt would be worth thrice that of a ball,” Elsbeth said, before Rose’s father could reply.

  “Hang on, darling,” Rose’s father looked to Elsbeth, catching her eye, before continuing.

  “Did you speak to the man?” He asked Rose.

  “Yes, he said he doesn’t just give them away for free. But I saw that his boy was wearing dirty clothes with holes in them and so I asked him if he would accept clothes in exchange for one of his balls,” Rose said.

  “You may grow into a successful merchant yet,” Rose’s father picked her up into his arms, praising her ability to recognise a man’s need for something and use that to her advantage.

  “Now, Elsbeth is right. Our clothes are worth more than a ball, but I think it is a good cause, and this ball will be a symbol of your first commercial dealing. Where is he?” Rose’s father asked.

  And so they went and found the man, and Rose’s father gave the man ten times what the ball was worth in return for clothes that Elsbeth had knitted. He now had enough clothes for his boy to last through as many winters as he could count, until they no longer fit.

  They spent the rest of that day playing with their ball in Isla’s private court yard, inventing games and making rules and laughing and arguing over who won and who lost.

  After a morning of playing, Rose and her father left Newcastle in the afternoon and headed back down towards their township, Kingston, where they would rest for a day, before continuing on with their journey down to Dover. Rose left the ball with Jack and Isla, and she made Isla promise her that she wouldn’t let Jack lose the ball.

  Within two days, they made it back to Dover. Unbeknownst to them, Raiding vikings had sailed up the calm peninsula in the middle of the night, guided by the full moon. They had landed their boats on the calm sandy banks and walked silently into the unsuspecting village surrounding the castle. Rose’s estate was one of the first. They crept up to their large house while Rose and her father slept.

  Rose was pulled from her bed by gigantic men with long hair that fell down their backs and strange black markings that covered their bodies. She noticed that they spoke in a strange language. Despite just waking, she immediately knew that the barbarians had come from their far away lands, and this time they had sailed further south, where the fields were greener and the soil was softer and richer. Fear filled her heart and wrapped its grip around her throat, preventing her from screaming.

  Rose watched as the men dragged her father from the house. He wore a silent look of desperation on his face as he looked to Rose, who was only eleven years old. She knew she would never see him again. She listened to men talk and laugh as she was dragged down to a large boat. She was too stunned to cry or fight. When she got to the boat, other women and children were crying, already tied up and huddled together, some of them only half dressed. Rose was one of the lucky ones, for she already had on her woollen pullover and clutched a large woollen blanket in her hands.

  There was no way to escape the boats; they were well lit by fires that stood on large sticks, speared into the ground in between the boats, with many men standing in the boats and on the shore.

  “I want mum,” a small boy cried as he sat alone in the boat. Rose crawled over to him, and pulled him tight against her, wrapping them both in the woollen blanket.

  “It’s ok, Charley,” Rose said to the small boy, who was taken from a nearby estate. His father sold cows to the surrounding lands, and was as rich as Rose’s father was. The boy’s body shook and he cried loudly, in vain hope that the tears would make the bad men go away. Rose hoped, too. But no more Englishmen came. They were unprepared for the sudden attack that the huge number of viking men had deployed on the surrounding lands and township.

  By sunrise, all of the huge, terrifying men had returned to the boats. They sang strange songs as they loaded the boats with more crying women and children and money and other items they had taken.

  Some women tried to fight but they were struck down, causing their children to cry louder. The men laughed and went about their business, fixing their boats.

  Rose did not move from her spot. She stayed in her spot with the small boy in the large boat, wrapped in the fine woollen blanket. Shortly after sunrise, they were in the open ocean. Rose had never been on such a large boat in such deep water in her whole life. The boat bounced along on the waves and caused her to feel sick, along with many of the women and children. None of the large strange men became sick, Rose noticed.

  Eventually, sickness, fear, and panic was replaced by boredom and sadness. Rose knew that no one was coming to save her. The only saving grace that God had given her was the knowledge that her mother Elsbeth and her brother Jack were alive and safe in Newcastle. They would have been with her on this boat if Elsbeth had not fallen sick.

  Ragnar

  “Wake up young Ragnar, we are going into town today! The raiding ships have returned, their boats are loaded with gold and slaves. We will finally be able to buy our first slave,” Ragnar’s father, Ragnar the Elder said.

  “We won’t have to work the fields anymore, father,” Ragnar said to his father, as they walked along the ridge of the great mountain that sat between their lands and the township.

  “We won’t be getting a man that could work he fields. Male slaves often end up killing their owners. We will be getting a woman,” His father said.

  “What can a girl do to help?” Ragnar said, folding his arms.

  “Women can do just as much as men, but she won’t be tending to the fields alone,” Ragnar’s father said.

  As they made their way into the town, people in the streets were drinking and singing and celebrating. Women were welcoming home their lovers and husbands, and children were welcoming home their fathers.

  Ragnar watched as women and children were pushed onto the beach. Men ran to grab the pretty women, and the more scrutinising vikings plucked up the strong looking boys, who would be valuable help in the fields, or as future warriors.

  Ragnar saw a girl holding a small boy’s hand. He knew she was one of the new slaves, for he did not recognise her and she wore strange, brightly coloured woollen clothes. Ragnar knew that she was the girl they must have. She still looked like one of them, a northman. She had blond hair, pale skin and blue eyes that sparkled like the ocean on a bright summer day.

  Another man had already approached them and began to pull the young boy away from her, causing her to kick at his shins and yell at him in her strange language. He wanted to help her, but didn’t know how. He ran down to the beach, and yanked the boy back from the man, who looked down at Ragnar incredulously.

  “What are you doing, boy?” The old man asked Ragnar.

  “The boy is with the girl,” Ragnar pushed the boy back into the girl’s arms, before standing between them.

  “You wish to quarrel with me, you aren’t yet a teenager,” the man laughed.

  “I’m already twelve,” Ragnar clipped.

  “Where’s your dad, boy?” The man poked at Ragnar’s forehead.

  “I’m here,” Ragnar’s father grabbed the man by the shoulder, spinning him around.

  Ragnar’s father, Ragnar the Elder, was a huge man. He was a head taller than anyone else in the village. He had a chest like a great barrel and arms like the hind legs of a horse.

  “Elder Ragnar,” The man said, his eyes widening slightly.

  “You’d be wise to leave my boy,” Elder Ragnar said.
r />   “Just having some fun, old friend,” the man walked away, and began to look among the remaining slaves that had not yet been claimed.

  “We are taking the girl, father,” Ragnar said.

  “You found one so easily, have you?” Ragnar’s father laughed, as he looked at the blonde haired girl.

  “Yes,” Ragnar said.

  She was the prettiest girl Ragnar had ever seen in his young life. He did not know why he wanted a pretty slave to help his mother and father with their work, but he knew he wanted her, and he would have her.

  “Very well. What about the boy? He does not look like her brother,” Ragnar’s father said, uncertainly.