Thorfinn and the Raging Raiders Page 3

  Velda parried the fish away with high kicks. “HI-YAAA!”

  Oswald did the wise thing, pulling up his hood and hiding behind Erik’s back.

  Thorfinn was standing right at the back, so none of the fish reached him. In fact, he barely even noticed what was going on, but gazed up at the clear blue sky with Percy perched on his hand. “Isn’t this a beautiful beach, dear Percy?”

  The oil from the fish had made the beach very slippery. Harald’s men slithered all over the place as they tried to charge over the dunes. They dropped their weapons and their legs flew out from under them.

  “AAARGH!”

  Harald’s Viking warriors soon turned into a heaving mass of arms and legs.

  As they finally crested the dunes, Erik and Harald struggled to their feet and picked up their swords, ready to face their foes behind a wall of shields. But instead of a menacing army, they saw a bunch of people sitting around with their helmets and shoes off, watching and applauding.

  “Nice landin’ there, guys! Hope you enjoyed oor leftover fish.”

  There were men and women dancing about and others playing bagpipes. There were children playing about. They’d set up windbreaks and parasols. A few were munching sandwiches. One or two had even fired up a brazier and were having a barbecue.

  “What is the meaning of this?” cried Harald, his eye twitching furiously at them.

  “Surrender or die!” snarled Erik, spitting a fish tail out of his mouth.

  A tall, bulgy-faced, red-haired man put down the chicken leg he was eating, wiped his hands with a napkin and stepped towards them.

  “Ach, you win. We surrender, of course.”

  “You WHATTT?!” yelled Harald, insulted. He hated it when people surrendered, as it meant there would be no battle. And what made it worse, these people were Vikings, like them. “Vikings don’t surrender!”

  They were funny-looking Vikings though. They wore tartan along with their Viking helmets.

  The tall man shrugged, then stretched out his hand and smiled. “I’m Gerry the Pie-Nosher. I’m the boss o’ this mob here… Well, this rabble more like, ha ha!” He laughed.

  But Harald was unamused. He slapped the man’s hand away with his sword. “Vikings don’t shake hands either. What kind of Vikings are you?”

  “Scottish ones,” replied Gerry.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Our granddads were like you lads,” said Gerry. “They came from Norway. They conquered this bit o’ Scotland. Then they decided tae settle here and farm the land. So we’re half-Viking, half-Scottish.”

  Thorfinn appeared at his father’s side, along with his three brothers. He doffed his helmet to the man and bowed. “Good morning, dear sir. And what a beautiful day.”

  Gerry bowed back. “Good morning to you as well. Ha, whit a polite wee laddie.”

  Harald bristled. “Will you STOP exchanging pleasantries! Vikings don’t do pleasantries!”

  “Death to all pleasantries!” echoed a voice behind him.

  “Well, you boys started it,” Gerry replied, nodding at Thorfinn.

  “He’s not with us!” cried Erik, trying to push Thorfinn out of the way.

  “Well, he is…” said Harald, pulling him back, “…and he isn’t. Look, he’s my son, that’s all. I can’t help it if he’s a bit daft.”

  “And what sort of a Viking name is ‘Pie-Nosher’?” said Erik. “What a rubbish name for a Viking chief!”

  “Ha!” Gerry spluttered. “Somebody thought it up for a laugh.”

  Erik nearly choked. “A laugh? A LAUGH?!”

  “Here,” said Gerry, now munching on a rack of barbecued ribs. “Ah’ll introduce ye to ma pals.” He beckoned forward a bunch of men, all dressed in tartan like him. “This is Wullie the Stair-Runner-Upper. We send him tae take all oor messages, so he’s forever runnin’ aboot.”

  There was a gasp of horror from Harald and the other Vikings. And the names only got more ridiculous. “This is Hughie the Baldy-Heided, Ally the Garden-Gnome-Collector, Murdo the Chip-Eater and Ian the Shelf-Putter-Upper. He’s brilliant at DIY.” Each name brought a larger gasp than before.

  Harald nearly choked. “What… what sort of Viking names are those?”

  Gerry shrugged. “Ah told ye, we’re Scottish Vikings. We do everythin’ for a laugh. It’s the Scottish in us. That’s why we came over the sea and raided your village.”

  “You raided our village… for a LAUGH?!” Harald’s eyes were murderous now, and his cheeks flamed with fury.

  Gerry tossed away the rack of ribs, which he’d stripped to the bone, then picked up a sandwich with a huge dripping hunk of meat inside it. He offered it to Harald and the men. “Goat burger anyone?”

  Harald waved him away angrily.

  Gerry shrugged and began chomping on it. “Aye, well, you know, everybody’s fed up wi’ the Norwegian Vikings, sailing over here and attackin’ us. We thought it would be funny if we sailed over tae you fur a change.”

  The Vikings were blazing with fury. They were jumping around, yelling, “FUNNY?! A LAUGH?!”

  “Well, as I did mention,” said Thorfinn, “it didn’t seem like much of a raid. See, it was all just a big joke.”

  “You’re right, it wasn’t much of a raid,” said Erik. He went on, jabbing his finger at Gerry, “And that’s another thing for you to be ashamed about.”

  “He’s right,” said Harald. “Your crew have a lot to learn about raiding.”

  Gerry shrugged. “You lot can’t take a joke. You need to lighten up a bit.”

  “You’re supposed to be Vikings, yet you didn’t even bother to raze the village to the ground,” said Erik.

  “A bunch of children could do better!” said Harald.

  “Ach, it was that pretty, with the mountains and the fjords and aw that,” said Gerry. “It would’ve been a shame tae burn it doon. We thought it would be funnier to burn your underpants.”

  At the mere mention of the word ‘underpants’ the Vikings all scratched their bottoms, remembering how long they’d been wearing the same pair.

  “And another thing,” cried Erik. “You didn’t even nick anything. We had loads of gold and you didn’t even touch it.”

  “Ach, we don’t need anything,” said Gerry.

  The Vikings tutted. “Dear, oh dear!”

  “You Scottish Vikings, you should be ashamed,” said Harald. “You’ve lost all your Viking spirit. OHH—” Harald stopped abruptly and dismissed Gerry with a wave of his hand. “Why am I even bothering to talk with you anyway. Now, where’s my wife?”

  Gerry looked confused. “Your wife?”

  “Yes, my wife, the woman you kidnapped? Blonde hair, green eyes, ferocious temper. If you just give her back we’ll be on our way.”

  “Eh, sorry, ah think there’s been some mistake,” said Gerry. “We don’t have your wife.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Gerry the Pie-Nosher turned to his friends to ask about Harald’s missing wife. Then he slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.

  “There was a woman. We thought she was an escaped prisoner. She attacked us as we were heading back to oor boats. She gave us a real doing! She nicked one of oor longships and sailed off in it. We tried tae chase her, but she was too fast.”

  “A-ha!” said Thorfinn. “I was right – there were four ships.”

  Harald scratched his head. “I don’t get it. If you don’t have her, and we don’t have her, then who has her?”

  “Pardon me, dear Father, but maybe no one has her,” said Thorfinn.

  “What do you mean, boy?”

  “I think she’s quite on her own. But if you’ll bear with me, I can tell you where I think she’s gone.” Thorfinn opened his pouch and carefully unfolded the page his mum had ripped out of The Daily Hatchet. He pointed to the advert:

  COME TO FLOTTERHEIM ICELANDIC SPA!

  “Iceland?” said Harald, screwing up his face. “I don’t think so. Why would she run off without telling us? And why would she wa
nt to ‘relax’?”

  “I hate to cause any upset,” replied Thorfinn, “but I think she was rather fed up.”

  “Fed up? FED UP?” roared Harald.

  “Vikings don’t get fed up,” said Sven.

  “I mean, we have the best life in the world,” added Hagar.

  “What’s not to like about the Viking life?” Wilfred joined in. “All the sailing about, the fighting, the burning and pillaging, the meat eating.”

  “Yeah, sometimes all at once,” added Erik. “Eh, boys?”

  “HUZZAH!” cried the entire Viking mob.

  “Pardon me, I’m sorry to correct you,” said Thorfinn. “But Mother’s life is not that great.”

  “What in Thor’s name are you talking about?” asked Harald.

  Velda suddenly leapt between them, swishing her axe about. “Oi! How stupid are you lot?”

  “Stupid?” cried Erik. “How dare this scrawny girl call me stupid!”

  “She’s calling you stupid,” wheezed Oswald, “because you are stupid.”

  “Will you listen to Thorfinn for once in your miserable lives!” Velda’s piercing eyes shot daggers at Harald and Thorfinn’s brothers. “Freya doesn’t get to do much of that fun Viking stuff. She spends most of her time cleaning up after you lot. When she’s not repairing damage to the house, she’s preparing the next meal or washing your massive underpants. You’re all too blind to see it, you bunch of idiots. You deserve to get walloped.” She turned to Thorfinn. “Oh, please let me wallop them, Thorfinn? Just a quick bash on the bonce, I promise!”

  “No thanks, old friend,” said Thorfinn, turning again to his father. “But Dad, Velda is right. Remember last week, for example, when Mother asked you not to break down the door for the fourth time running? Pardon me, but you just kicked it in anyway. And then you did it again, and again. Remember when she asked you for help carrying that elk to the harvest feast? You ignored her, and she put her back out by lifting it herself.”

  Harald rubbed his beard and there was a moment’s silence, during which the only sounds to be heard were the lapping waves, and the munching and slurping as the Scottish Vikings tucked into a load of chargrilled venison.

  Then Harald spoke again. “Ach! I can’t believe she would run away and leave me over such nonsense!”

  “Believe it!” replied Velda.

  “She took her wolf-skin slippers when she left,” said Thorfinn. “Now why would she do that unless she was planning to go somewhere relaxing?” He turned to Gerry. “Pardon me, dear sir, but would you please be so good as to tell me which way my mother’s ship went when you left the fjord?”

  “Aye, nae bother. She went aff to our right,” said Gerry.

  “That would be north-west, wouldn’t it, to Iceland?”

  Harald sighed, then got to his feet. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he yelled to his men. “Set sail for Iceland.”

  Erik protested, but Harald cast his twitchy eye at him. So Erik shrugged, then yelled at the men, “OK, you pig-dogs, back to the ship!”

  The men grumbled and began climbing back aboard the longship. Thorfinn doffed his helmet to Gerry. “Good day, Mr Pie-Nosher!”

  “Aye,” said Gerry, now gnashing his way through a leg of lamb, “come back any time.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The journey to Iceland took several days, during which Velda studied sea scrolls that had belonged to her father, Gunga the Navigator.

  “Thorfinn, will you come and help me with my map?” She was struggling to hold it in the sea breeze.

  “Why, of course, dear friend.” Thorfinn helped straighten it out and weigh it down with wooden blocks. “What does it show?”

  “It’s the whole northern ocean,” said Velda. “And here…” she traced her finger along a line that ran the length of the map, “…is the route my father planned to take towards the New World in his ship, the Night Blaze.” She sighed. “There’s little chance of finding him now, I guess.”

  “There’s always hope, dear friend.” Thorfinn sat down on the deck and put his arm round Velda’s shoulder. “How you must miss him.”

  “Mmm…” she said sadly. “Which is why it’s so important that we find your mum.”

  Laughter boomed out behind them. It was Erik the Ear-Masher, who had been eavesdropping on their conversation. “Ha! Your father was the worst navigator we ever had.”

  Velda leapt to her feet. There was fire in her eyes. “You lot didn’t appreciate him. He had loads of great ideas, like discovering the New World. He was going to call it Gungaland.”

  Erik laughed so hard he nearly threw up. “Gungaland? Shmungaland!”

  ***

  Meanwhile Harald was staring gloomily out from the prow of the longship, surrounded by his sons.

  Thorfinn climbed up on a barrel to pat his father’s giant shoulder. “Oh, dear Dad, it’s not your fault. You’re a Viking; it’s not in your nature to be thoughtful.” Percy fluttered onto Harald’s other shoulder and patted it with his wing.

  “What are you on about, boy?” Harald cried, pushing Percy away. He shook off his son’s hand and ogled him like a deranged bear. “I’m going to Iceland to drag your mother back, whether she likes it or not.”

  “Yeh!” said Wilfred. “She should be grateful to have such a fearsome chief for a husband.”

  “Yeh!” agreed Sven. “And three great warrior sons.”

  “Yeh!” added Hagar. “She should be proud to clean up our mess.”

  Velda appeared at Thorfinn’s side, her arms folded defiantly. “You can’t just drag her back, you nitwits.”

  “What do you suggest we do then?” growled Harald.

  “Pardon me, Father, but might I suggest you start by apologising?” said Thorfinn.

  Harald took a sharp intake of breath at the mere mention of the despicable, un-Vikingy ‘A’ word.

  “WHAATTT?!! APOLOGISE?!” cried Harald.

  “APOLOGISE?!” growled Sven, Hagar and Wilfred.

  “Sometimes it helps to admit when we’ve been wrong,” said Thorfinn.

  Erik the Ear-Masher stepped in. He too was growling. “You’re not going to take this, are you, Chief?”

  Harald snarled – the fierce, angry snarl of a wounded animal. “Apologise? NO! I will not! Vikings DO NOT apologise!”

  He barged past them all, then stopped and turned to Thorfinn. “And Viking wives DO NOT run off on spa breaks, get it?”

  CHAPTER 15

  At last, after many days of rolling seas and cold grey skies and itchy bottoms, the crew sighted the rugged coastline of Iceland. After another day Thorfinn spotted a sign through his spyglass. “There! Look!”

  VIKINGS! ALIGHT HERE FOR FLOTTERHEIM SPA!

  They beached the longship. Harald leapt onto the shore, his feet casting up a plume of sand. He bellowed, “Right, everyone stay put, apart from my four sons. We’ll deal with this as a family.”

  “Pardon me, dear Father,” said Thorfinn, gliding down a rope and landing with a puff of sand next to him, “but can Velda come too? She’s good pals with Mother, and may be able to help.”

  “Fine,” said Harald. Velda high-kicked with excitement as she back-flipped off the ship and somersaulted across the sand.

  “I think I’ll stay on board and rest my poor old tootsies. This icy weather is playing havoc with my chilblains,” Oswald grumbled.

  “Well, if the puny girl is coming,” said Erik, landing right next to Velda and sending a spray of sand into her face, “then I’m coming too.”

  Percy fluttered onto Thorfinn’s shoulder, and they set off marching along the beach. A few other longships were moored there, including one that looked very much like the raiders’ boats. Thorfinn and Velda climbed aboard and unfurled the sail to reveal the raiders’ skull and crossed-axes symbol.

  “She’s here!” cried Sven, throwing his mortarboard hat into the air.

  “She must be!” added Wilfred, breaking into a comedy Russian dance.

  “By Odin’s hailst
ones!” cried Hagar, leaping into the air and clicking his heels.

  They trekked on, past a number of shipwrecks. One of the wrecks was older than the others. The hull had sunk into the sand and the wood was bleached. A dragon figure, once polished bronze but now tinged with blue, lurched out from the masthead. Harald stopped and looked it over.

  “Hang on, that ship looks familiar.”

  “Wait, that’s one of ours!” said Erik.

  Velda traced her fingers over the boat’s name, now worn by the surf. “NIGHT B…” She yelped. “Night Blaze! It’s the Night Blaze, my father’s ship!”

  “By Thor’s beard, she’s right,” said Harald. “Old Gunga must have landed here! And he can’t have gone much further without his boat.”

  “I wonder if he’s still here?” said Thorfinn.

  “Worse luck,” barked Erik. “That old codger’s all we need!”

  Velda spat. “Don’t you say that about my father!”

  Harald took the furious girl by the shoulder and led her on. “Come on, let’s take a look.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The Vikings followed a path up from the beach and over a hill towards a bleak, rocky landscape. Here and there, geysers of hot water shot up from the ground. Beyond the rocks was a plain with a large steaming lagoon that was surrounded by a high fence. There were crowds of people inside, basking in the warm water.

  “So this is the spa,” said Thorfinn. “What a wonderful place it looks.”

  “C’mon, let’s climb over the fence,” said Sven.

  “Let’s break it down,” said Wilfred.

  “Let’s slash it with our axes!” said Hagar.

  “No.” Harald pointed out the sentries and barking dogs patrolling the fence. “Better not if we want to find your mother.” A line of carts was dropping people off outside a large wooden fort. “That must be the reception. Let’s just use the front door.”