Drustina finally manages to resolve the succession issues in Dane-mark and after waiting for Elthorn to deliver her prince, Drustina finally sets off for her beloved Lleyn, the remote peninsular land where she was born.

The Angry Mermaid 62.

Or

Y Morforwyn Dicllon 62.

Mabina... The youngest daughter and Twin to
Drustan... Her twin brother.
Grandpa Erin... the twins grandfather.
Giana... The twins grandmother
Caderyn... The twins father.
Herenoie... The twins wise and beautiful mother.
Morgaran... The Twins oldest brother.
Aiofe... The twins oldest sister. Famous for her beauty.
Tara... The twins second oldest sister. Famous for her grace.
Feidlim... Twins aunt (Caderyns’ beautiful sister.)
Mogantu... Twins uncle (Married to Feidlim.) Chief of the Gangani tribe.
Brun... Twins 2nd cousin and the Acaman clans’ blacksmith.
Feorin... Twins second brother. Also training to be a blacksmith.
Rhun... Feidlims’ son and Feorins’ favourite 1st Cousin. (Both red-heads.)
Arina... Child of a Demetae fisherman, (rescued by Aiofe, Drustan and Mabina.)
Penderol... Dumnonii Minor chief.
Udris... Young Dumnonii warrior.
Dryslwyn... High chief of the whole Celtic nation. Dwells in Brithony.
Bronlwyn... Dryslwyn’s wife (and queen.)
Magab... The moor who taught numbers.
Eric... Saxon galley slave rescued from Corsair pirates.
Carl... Another Saxon galley slave rescued by Drustan.
Torvel... Celtic galley slave rescued from the same captured corsair ship
Arton... Turdetani Chieftain Holder of Gibral Rock.
Carinia... Arton’s wife.
Isobel... Arton’s adopted daughter.
Appotel... King of the Turdetani Tribe. (Southern Iberia.)
Bramana... Queen. (Wife of Appotel)
Pilus... King of the Capetani.
Shaleen ... Pilus’s queen and sister to Bramana.
Pedoro... Lord Marshal of the Southern border region.
Lady Shulaar... Lord Pedoro’s wife.
Taan... The scullery maid.
Isaar... Pedoro’s oldest son.
Ferdie... Pedoro’s 2nd son
Sular... Pedoro’s 3rd son
Gontala ... Pedoro’s youngest son.
Shenoa ... Pedoro’s only daughter.
Portega... Tyrant King to the west.
Portua. .. Portega’s grandson.
Jubail. .. Old Fisherman.
Mutas... Magab’s younger brother and usurper.
Walezia ... King of Malta.
Alviar... Megalomaniacal bishop of Carthage. (Hates Drustina.)
Ethelia... Female healer who treats Drustina during her pregnancy.
Seripatese... Drustina’s faithful horse.
Astos & Amitor... Minor royalty who govern Alexandria. King and Twin Queen.
Meronee... Nubian Queen of Nobatia The northern Kingdom of the Nubians.
Horam ... The Egyptian master Boat builder.
Muraa... King Astos’s male partner.
Tuk ... Makurian general.
Fantu.... Makurian Captain.
Irene... Emperor Leon’s only child.
Leon... Byzantine Emperor.
Zano... Byzantine general who defeats the Bulgars with Drustina’s help.
Urthos ... The Gaul elected captain of the 4th ship. Ex Barbary galley slave.
Horus... Horam the boat-builder’s son.
Sister Catherine... Leader of the pirate nuns.
Guthrun... Jarl of Bornholm.
Etheline... Guthruns’ wife the countess of Bornholm.
Seripatese... Drustinas’ mare
Capenda ... Taras’ mare.
Athun... Gay king of Dark Age Denmark.
Queen Elthorn... King Athuns’ Consort.
Heingist... Drustina’s loyal Danish navigator and pilot.
Brendigan.. Athun’s older sister and queen of Svenland.
Bjorn.. The captain of the Palace Guard. King Athun’s partner.
Morgan and Amethyst.. Drustina’s twin children.

The Angry Mermaid 62.

That afternoon, with Athun’s permission, Drustina’s followers started to gather in the great hall. Before the jarls got wind of the meeting and could organise spies, Drustina had addressed her men and briefly advised them of the king’s offer to pay them if they remained to ensure his reign until Elthorn bore a child. Finally she advised her men that the jarl’s men might take action if they learned of the meeting so she urged them to come to a quick decision.

She was both gratified and slightly surprised that they unanimously decided to stay another year. The decision took the meeting less than a few minutes to be decided and Drustina felt compelled to sound her men out. The collective answer was gratifying and brought Drustina considerable comfort.

The vast majority had been away from their homes for upwards of five years and they had all left home as single men to seek their fortunes. Many of them had made substantial fortunes already; certainly enough to win them land and a wife when they returned to their various homes. Others already had won themselves excellent wives by marrying Sister Catherine’s pirate nuns. These were mainly educated youngish women who had been forced to become nuns against their wills. The freed women had seen Drustina’s companions as suitable husbands and the vice-versa. Lots of the nuns were pretty and Drustina’s men had consequently snapped them up at the first opportunities. Mutual consent was the only condition Drustina had enforced on both nuns and soldiers when they elected to marry. The vote came back to stay for the year especially when the money was mentioned. At one level, Drustina was pleased to advise Athun of her availability but on another level, she had to be reconciled to delaying her ambitions for yet another year.

Thus the Danish court settled down to a regular rhythm until, after three months, Elthorn felt the quickening in her womb and could confirm with certainty what she more or less already knew. Life had sprung within her.

With the deed completed, Drustina’s main duty of stimulating Athun to virility had finished. She had until the next spring to kick her heels around Dane-mark. To alleviate her boredom she assisted in the building of several warships for Athun’s fleet whilst reserving one to her own purposes. She included a couple of The Angry Mermaid’s design features that made them faster than other Scandinavian ships but still not as fast as the ‘Mermaid’. The main reason being that Welsh Oak was much tougher and lighter, harder and more durable than Scandinavian pine thus the ‘Mermaid’ would always be lighter and faster than a pinewood ship of identical construction. Nevertheless, Athun was pleased with his new, faster ships. Having such fine additions to his fleet put him at a considerable advantage to the jarls. They would serve to extend his authority better between the many islands of Dane-mark’s archipelago.

Thus was Drustina occupied for the months of Elthorn’s pregnancy and she was pleased when Elthorn produced a fine lusty boy. Now the succession was assured Drustina could only kick her heels until the sailing season retuned and return it eventually did.
In the April of her twenty-fifth year, Drustina bid farewell to Dane-mark that now enjoyed a decent peace and a legitimate government. The jarls accepted Athun’s kingship unreservedly because the newborn prince bore a remarkable likeness. Everybody was forced to agree or concede that the baby’s parentage could not be denied. Furthermore the baby’s lineage and inheritance had been assured by Drustina’s attendance at the ceremonial bathing. As a recognised warrior queen, Drustina’s rank and fame lent extra credence to the baby’s status. Drustina was also called upon to choose the baby’s name but she cleverly circumvented any resentment by secretly asking Elthorn what name she preferred. Elthorn gave the name Asvaard and so it was.

‘What is a baby’s name to me’, she asked herself while Elthorn thanked her profusely; for it was an old distaff family name. ‘Another lesson in diplomacy’ Drustina mused.

A week later Drustina’s flotilla of six ships set sail in the company of a Danish trading fleet making course for the Saxon and Friesian lands before finally visiting Gaul and then Britannia. With opportunist pirates always threatening from the northern fiords, the traders were glad of Drustina’s protection.

Two weeks later after rounding the Jutland and sailing south, the fleet arrived in Frisian lands. There, amidst much regret, the majority of the Saxons prepared to bid Drustina farewell as they returned to their homelands.

As their fleet stood off the estuary of the great river Rhine, Eric agreed to lead a tentative feeler group of three ships. In those unstable times few could be certain if the Friesians were friendly with the Franks and although Drustina’s men believed the great estuary to belong to the Friesians, there had been rumours that there was strife between the Frisians and the Franks. After probing carefully amidst the many channels Eric’s scouts found a manmade, fortified mound that seemed to have been abandoned only that hour. The hearths in the humble grass and mud huts were still warm and in one hut, still smoking. As his shore-side scouts returned they described their find to Eric. He mused to his lieutenants.

“The Franks are tended build small hills in order to fortify their settlements. Did you bring anything back.”

“No, nothing,” the chief scout replied, “We thought it best to demonstrate that we were not a plundering party. We left everything as we found it. Whatever happened did so less than a few hours ago and they left with little or no preparation.”

“And you met with no hostility?”

“No. The place was deserted.”

Eric sighed as he wondered to himself, ‘What would Drustina do?’

After further musing he decided to return to the mound for it was the first evidence of settlement he had encountered. What bothered him was that he and Drustina thought they were approaching Frisian lands and the Frisians had been traditional friends with the Saxons. The settlement his scouts had described seemed more Frankish and there were always uncertainties between Franks and Frisians. Eric made his decision.

“We’ll leave one third of the men to man the three ships while the rest of us go back and investigate the settlement. We’re a well armed band so we’ll be able to protect ourselves. Let’s move quickly but silently. You all know the drill men.”

Eric’s group were all intimately acquainted with each other’s abilities and it was but a moment to decide the manning. Within two minutes, Eric and his chosen men were scurrying secretively through the swampy estuary to arrive silently at the outskirts of the mound in less than an hour. They paused to regroup themselves whilst Eric and his lieutenant Vorin checked out the settlement. As they crouched amongst the reeds they were shocked to see a coffle of slaves being led towards them by a band of heavily armed men. Eric’s jaw dropped as he confirmed in whispers with Vorin.

“They’re bloody Norsemen! They’re returning from a raid. Those captives are probably the Frankish people who live on that mound. They look like they’re all women and children!”

“No, look there are some others, some of those are dressed like Frisians; ... our people!” His lieutenant added.

Eric double checked and confirmed his lieutenant’s opinion.

“Well I’m a Saxon and we’ve always been friends with the Frisians. I’ve no time for Viking Norsemen so I think we should rescue those prisoners.”

Vorin nodded vigorously and Eric immediately started to organise an ambush.

“Come on, let’s get back to the rest of our men, we can lay an ambush. Look at the state on those women! Some of them are covered in blood.”

“I suppose the men have been executed.” Vorin added.

“Or died fighting.” Eric surmised. “There’s only one way to find out, come on; back to our troop.”

They slipped away through the reeds whilst leaving one man to follow the coffle.

On reaching the shore-party, Eric despatched a messenger to the ships and the rest returned to a well trodden path through the swamp that they determined was the most likely path the Viking slave coffle would take. Eric’s choice proved right and as they lay silent and deadly amidst a copse of willow and thorn, the Viking coffle approached amidst noisy and raucous celebrations. Eric nodded with silent satisfaction toward Vorin his chief lieutenant who smiled back from his hiding-place amidst the tree roots. The shore party quickly picked up on Eric’s change of posture and a soft rustle of preparation gave no betrayal to the ambush. The men were all experienced warriors. The Ambush would be a walk over.

Without a sound Eric’s men rose like ghosts out of the undergrowth and more than half the Vikings were cut down before they realised they were in a real fight. After a few more clashes of steel the leader realised his band was beaten so he made a desperate play. He grabbed a slave who Erin recognised as some sort of higher ranking woman. She still had a golden bracelet that seemed firmly wrapped around her wrist. All the other women had no jewellery, obviously ripped off by the raiders. Eric concluded this high ranking woman was some sort of hostage or bargaining chip. As he assessed the woman his eyes fell appreciatively on her obvious beauty whilst she stared narrow-eyed at her potential saviour and struggled in the cruel grip of the Viking chief. The Viking snarled.

“Try to touch me and this lady gets it.”

Eric pretended total disinterest in the woman’s fate but in fact he was waiting for Vorin to finish with the last remaining Viking who still wielded a sword. Eric turned his face away as though feigning some sort of consideration about negotiating a solution. The Viking chief misread Eric’s seeming hesitation as fear or cowardice and he roared his contempt.

“Don’t try anything or this lady gets it. I’m warning you, now let me past!

“You’re going nowhere.” Eric challenged as he brandished both his sword and his dagger. “Put down your sword and I might consider giving you a quick, warrior’s death.”

“Damn you! You ...” The Viking squinted at Eric’s unusual apparel and very sophisticated weaponry. “Just what are you, Saxon, Frisian, Frank, Gaul? What the hell are you!?”

“I’m your nemesis, now drop the woman and prepare to fight like a true warrior!”

The Viking’s grip on the woman tightened and he thrust her in front of him as he shoved her forward like a shield. Eric got tired of the confrontation. Glancing over the Viking’s shoulder he saw that Vorin had despatched the remaining raider and he was approaching the Viking chief from behind. It only remained for Eric to take a small step forward with his sword raised. The Viking’s snarl turned to a sneer as his lip curled and he tightened his grip on his prisoner’s arms and shoved her towards Eric’s sword-point.

However he felt forced to stop momentarily as the woman’s breast fetched up against Eric’s sword. Vorin grinned wolfishly as he laid his sword against the Vikings neck and gently slid it forward. The Viking’s sneer faded to a gape of astonishment as he felt the sting of the sharp blade slide easily across the side of his neck and draw a thin stripe of blood. His eyes cast nervously sideways to see the long, silver edge glistened in the afternoon sun and a few droplets of blood trickling down the fluting of the blade. Vorin twisted the blade and it flashed brilliantly. Eric grinned.

“You’re always polishing that blade Vorin.” What are you trying to do, dazzle him?”

As he spoke, Eric nodded imperceptibly. Vorin knew what was needed. He pulled his sword back to cut a second wound and the Viking lurched sideways in an attempt to avoid the blade. This action opened his stomach up and Eric’s sword dipped instantaneously to skewer the Viking in his belly. It was only then that the Viking realised his antagonists meant business and he quickly adjusted his sword to plunge into his hostage. To do this he was forced to raise his arm and that was the opening Eric was looking for. He stepped rapidly forward, reached around the woman who was squeezed between them and drove the dagger upwards into the Viking’s unguarded arm-pit. The man bellowed in pain but the dagger had cut some vital nerves in his shoulder and he was unable to plunge his sword into the woman. The Viking released the woman and desperately clawed at the sword in his paralyzed hand to defend himself.

It was to no avail. Eric glanced at Vorin who coolly slid his blade between the Viking’s ribs and pierced his heart from the rear. The Viking’s angry roar turned to a gargle then a death rattle as the life quickly spilled out. As he fell to his knees, Eric wrapped his arms around the terrified woman wrenched her to safety. He watched the woman’s terror turn to relief and then gratitude as he sheathed his weapons and spoke to Vorin.

“Send a couple of men to tell the ships what’s happened. We’ll ask these people what’s been going on.”

As Vorin set about organising the men Eric beckoned to the terrified noblewoman. She stared at him with the question writ large in her expression.

“Who are you?”

Eric raised a single eyebrow and shrugged then smiled to reassure her.

“I think that’s my question lady.

She swallowed uncertainly then replied.

“I am Lady Dalcimon, Frankish lady and owner of these lands, and ... thank you. Thank you for rescuing us."

Eric glanced sideways at her and ignored her gratitude, what he needed was information so he went straight to the point.

“I thought under Frankish law, only men owned the land.”

“My husband was murdered by these butchers.”

Her remark brought no response from Eric as he continued his own line of inquiry.

“I thought these were Frisian lands.”

“They were; my husband was Frisian.”

“Ah, that explains it. I see there are no male prisoners.”

The lady’s face darkened with despair as she explained.

“Some young boys, that’s all. Our menfolk were all slaughtered.”

Eric nodded as Vorin signalled they were ready to return to their ships. They set off at an easy pace while Eric pumped the lady for information.

“So was it just raiding party then?”

The lady Dalcimon wagged her head uncertainly.

“No it was quite a big force.”

Eric nodded and continued questioning.

“How many where there and do you know where their ships are hidden.

“There ships are in the next inlet and the men of the village reported about eight hundred men. The main body went inland to find more slaves. Your small band will be hard put to fight them all.”

Eric smiled but said nothing. He had learned Drustina’s lessons of secrecy well.

“We’ll see,” he replied.

As they walked to the beach Eric pumped her continually for information until he was satisfied with his understanding of the situation. When they reached the beach the Lady Dalcimon stared at the three ships and wagged her head despondently.

“You’ll not defeat the raiders with that meagre force.”

Eric remained silent as they signalled the ships and the small shore boats were sent to meet him. Within the hour everybody was back aboard the ships and Eric explained to the lady Dalcimon.

“We are going to get reinforcements.”

Lady Dalcimon frowned.

“You’ll be lucky; the Viking raiders have been plundering this estuary for weeks. Our town was razed and we were hiding in those hovels until the raiders found us.

“Explain.” Eric demanded as the ships turned nimbly in the tideway and sped out to sea.

She described how the raiding parties had taken advantage of what uncertainty and strife lay between Frisian and Frank

“But you say you are, or should I say were, married to a Frisian.”

Lady Dalcimon wagged her head.

“It was a political union. My father married me to the Frisian chief as a political move. It was the first step towards entreating a peace but those Vikings arrived without warning. Neither we Franks nor the Frisians were ready.”

Suddenly Vorin called from the lead ship.

“Longships Eric! Six of them pulling out of that inlet on the north shore.”

The Lady Dalcimon tensed with fear.

“There are too many of them and those ships are fearsomely fast!”
Eric smiled and wagged his head to reassure her.

“I think not milady. Just watch.”

With a single motion of his arm, Eric signalled ‘All Sail’ and in seconds the cotton sails billowed forth to cause each of the ships to leap forward like horses to the fences. Eric’s ship gave a violent lurch and pounded hard against the increasing waves as the three ships sped for the open sea and safety. Lady Dalcimon knew little of ships but the wild ride and violent pounding told her she was aboard some wonderful craft. Her stare of disbelief widened as she realised all three of the strange craft were already outstripping the Viking longships even with the Norsemen pulling hard on their oars to assist their sails. She gasped in disbelief for the only ships she had ever encountered were clumsy Frankish trading vessels. To her people, any appearance of Viking ships was deemed to mean certain capture or death because of their renowned speed and ferocity.

“What manner of ships are these!?” She finally squealed as excitement and relief betook her high-born manners.”

“They are the queen’s ships my lady, and as you see, they are fast! Look yonder, that is our destination.”

Lady Dalcimon followed Eric’s hand to note a fleet standing off the notorious shoals that made the estuary so dangerous.

“What fleet is that? What people are you?”

Eric huffed with friendly censure.

“Come now, surely my lady, do you not recognise my speech and my accent as Saxon?”

She frowned uncertainly.

“Well; well yes, but these are not Saxon ships and I heard other tongues being used by some of your men, Danish for one.”

“Well my lady, be assured, we mean you no harm. My leader is with that fleet and you will shortly meet her but not immediately, we must deal with these Viking marauders first.”

“Her? Are you saying your leader is a woman?”

Eric smiled and chuckled.

“Yes. Why; does that surprise you?”

“Well; yes! It is not our custom to have men follow a woman. Frankish women must know there place. This woman must be a remarkable person to command warriors such as you.”

Eric smiled again as he enlightened her.

“Have you heard of ‘The Lioness of Carthage’?

Lady Dalcimon’s jaw sagged as a gasp of disbelief.

“Do not mock me Saxon. The Lioness of Carthage is a myth, a fairy story!”

“Do you think so my lady?”

“No woman could do all the things they tell of her! The tales grow more ludicrous and impossible with every telling.”
Eric shrugged. He had not time to disillusion the lady for they were closing fast with Drustina and the main fleet. Eric simply acceded to her opinion.

“Very well my lady, if you say the lioness is a myth, a figment of men’s fantasies, then so be it. I’m going to be busy shortly; perhaps later we can discuss it.”

Even as Eric spoke, Vorin released a signal fire arrow that distracted Eric from his conversation with Lady Dalcimon as he was forced to attend to immediate events. Lady Dalcimon was left to her own devices. Vorin’s flaming arrow elicited an immediate response from The Angry mermaid and within minutes, Lady Dalcimon watched fascinated as three ships weighed anchors and separated from the fat merchantmen. They set sail and hurtled toward Eric’s flotilla. A few minutes later Eric hauled his own ships around as Drustina waved her sword towards the pursuing longships and called out one word.

“Vikings!?”

“Aye, six of them. What say you?”

“Lead them towards the trading ships; once they are amongst the Danes they will be out-numbered. They will also be hampered by the fat slow traders but we will be able to dodge around them as they have to forego their oars to fight. Have you plenty of arrows?”

“Aye my lady, plenty, we have not used a one so far. Oh, and we have some passengers.”

“We’ll sort that out later.” Drustina replied, “To arms Eric!”

“With that final shout all six of Drustina’s ships turned about and sped back to the Danish trading fleet. As she approached the lumbering, fat-bellied merchantmen, Drustina called her pr-arranged orders.

Just form three lines of four and set course for the west. You need to avoid the shoals and so will they, but my ships are small and can work amongst the shoals. Be prepared to use your fire arrows and don’t hit any of my ships!”

The Danish trading master waved his thankful agreement and the plan was set.

As the Danish trading vessels slowly lumbered into lines they proved too tempting a prize to be ignored by the approaching Vikings who swung to port and fell upon the seemingly easy targets.

It was not until they had entered between the lines of merchantmen with a view to going alongside and boarding that the Vikings realised they were trapped. As the last Viking ship passed into the lines Drustina sprung her trap and her six manoeuvrable craft raced across the course of the merchantmen each pair slipping across the bows of the Viking ships and pumping fire arrows into them before slipping across the lines and out of sight behind the merchantmen ...only to turn sharp about and return through the next gap to repeat a grid-iron pattern of rapid furious attacks. The Viking raiders found themselves under siege from all four quarters and quickly succumbed to the strategy. The arrows had done their work as artillery and the attrition had been wholesale. The Vikings were overwhelmed before a single sword had been swung.

As Vikings fell to the barrage of arrows the six longships gradually became uncontrollable then helpless as their crews were decimated. As each Viking ship tried to re-ship their oars and escape, Drustina used the essential advantage given only to the Angry Mermaid. Her tough oak planking could endure anything the Vikings threw at her whilst she swept down on a reciprocal course and used her tough hull to shatter the oars as she swept past at speed. During this tactic, the entire mermaid’s crew ducked down under their shields whilst a chosen few set a wall of shields around Drustina at the helm and the men manning the sheets. Within minutes two Viking longships were completely disabled. Drustina was forced to give them grudging respect. To a man they refused to surrender and died under the hail of arrows that now beset them.

The Lioness had not time to savour her success however for she had four more ships to deal with. Signalling to her other commanders, she left Carl to supervise the capture of the two disabled ships whilst she led her fleet in pursuit of the fleeing raiders. Outnumbered five to four and already severly weakened by the attrition in the first phase of the battle the remaining ships were steadily overhauled and captured. The Norsemen were too exhausted to row and gradually each ship fell behind to be devoured piecemeal by Drustina’s voracious wolves. By nightfall, they were long out of sight of the Danish merchantmen and it was the following morning before Drustina returned to finally rendezvous with her victorious comrades.

As she hailed the victorious fleet Eric turned sharp about to introduce the Lady Dalcimon to his commander.

“My lady, this is one of the passengers I described to you. It’s our first opportunity to meet with you. May I present the Lady Dalcimon.”

Drustina was too pre-occupied with assessing the extent and value of her victory to first take much notice. She was almost off-hand in her brusqueness as she called her captains together. Eric had to remind her again with a slightly sharper tone.

“Dru! I think what she has to say is important!”

“What!? Eric, can’t you see I’m busy?”

“That’s as maybe but I think this is more important. The lady Dalcimon has only this morning revealed her full Identity. She is not just a lady, she was married to the West Frisian King! May I present Queen Dalcimon!”

“Oh. Aahh! I see.”

Drustina stood up, smiled and extended her hand. Queen Dalcimon frowned.

“I would expect a bit more deference than that miss. I am queen of the West Frisians. Do you not know how to greet your superiors!?”

Drustina leant back in mild surprise. Despite her rank as a warrior queen, with titles bestowed upon her from all over the European world, she had always had an easy, familiar relationship with all her captains and generals. Her lips tightened as she recognised in the Lady Dalcimon (now found to be a queen), an overbearing and pompous, snob. Drustina replied softly but the menace and contempt hardened her voice like the ring of tempered steel.

“Really your majesty then might I present myself.”

Queen Dalcimon hesitated uncertainly but Drustina gave her no time to respond

“Do you realise that you are Addressing Her Majesty, Queen Drustina ap Caderyn ap Erin; Lioness of Carthage, Great Crocodile of the Nile, Consort to The King of Nubia, Defender of the Eastern Empire, Captain of the Order of the Holy Eastern Church, Commander Royal of the House of Polander, Saviour of the house of Dane-mark, Knight benefactor of the House of Svensk, and finally; if I might be so blunt; Saviour of your sanctimonious, woe-begotten, over-inflated Frankish hide! Who the hell do you think you are!!? Queen without a kingdom!”

Queen Dalcimon’s face paled with shock as she visibly shrank under Drustina’s contemptuous glare. Only then did she realise the woman before her bore scars aplenty to her bare arms and legs and carried a superb sword that even she, a Frankish noble-woman untutored in martial arts, recognised as a weapon of remarkable substance. Her demeanour quickly changed as she dropped to bended knee and begged forgiveness. Drustina wagged her head disbelievingly and caught Eric’s eye as she remarked.

“A simple ‘Sorry’ would have done. No wonder she ended up as a slave, look how easy her bubble is pricked. Sort her out Eric,

Sort all of them out, then join Carl and Urthos and me as we decide what to do with these captured ships.”

Drustina leapt lithely from The Mermaid across to Urthos’s ship where she joined her other lieutenants.

“Found much amongst the Viking ships?” She asked.

Urthos shrugged.

“Not much, Carl’s going through the last one, the one you chased.”

“Even as Urthos finished, there was a shout from Carl as he searched the last captured Viking ship.”

“There’s a captive boy hiding under the spare sail, he’s just a youngster.”

“Bring him over, we might get some more information.”

“Carl oar-hopped skilfully across the lattice of oars the ships put out to connect in open water whilst avoiding the hulls grinding against each other. Drustina smiled as she watched the captive boy repeat the nimble performance as he skipped behind Carl. When he landed as lithely as only a young boy can, he stood wide-eyed before the warrior woman who was obviously somebody to whom all these powerful warriors paid homage. Drustina smiled encouragement.

“What’s your name boy?”

“I am Andrar the son of Hardar, King of West Friesia.

“And how old are you?”

“Fifteen years.”

Drustina had a sudden thought.

‘Could this be Dalcimon’s son?’ She wondered as she questioned the boy further.

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“Dalcimon!” The boy answered without hesitation thereby indicating that he did not see Drustina’s forces as enemies. Drustina pressed further.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No! But you are obviously a warrior.”

Drustina choked back a chuckle and turned to include Carl and Urthos in the amusement.

“And how would you know that boy. Can you not see that I’m a woman?”

The boy stood his ground and Drustina was growing to like the boy.

“You may be a woman, but those are not a maiden’s scars and you carry a sword.”

“Oh so I’m a maiden now am I.”

The boy hesitated thinking he might have caused offence. He apologised.

“I’m sorry miss, I just thought ...”

Drustina couldn’t hold her amusement any longer and she let out a loud unladylike hoot of laughter. Carl and Urthos joined in with belly laughs and the boy became a little frightened.

“I meant no insult miss!!”

Drustina recovered from her laughter and gripped the boy’s jaw gently in her hands.

“Oh don’t worry young man, you have not offended me, it’s not often I get called a maid these days. Not with all these scars and weather-lines. You have not insulted me lad, you have just paid me the nicest compliment a young lad could give. Maid indeed, well I never. Carl, there’s hopes for me yet when a teenaged lad admires my looks aye?”

The boy peered innocently and frowned.

“I see no wrinkles miss; scars aplenty, yes, but no wrinkles.”

Drustina bend down and planted a sloppy kiss on the boy’s lips and he reared backwards with disgust. Urthos and Carl roared with laughter again as Carl remarked to the youngster.

“You’ll change your tune one day lad when a maid kisses you like that.”

Drustina released the boy and grinned at her lieutenants.

“Give the boy some wine or beer and ask Eric to bring the Mermaid back here, he should have sorted out those women captives by now.”

A signal fire-arrow soon brought Eric alongside and he called over.

“All the captives have been divided amongst our ships for now. I kept the bossy queen for you.”

“Oh thanks Eric,” Drustina snapped back sarcastically, “That’s all I need. Tell her I might have something of interest to her.”

Eric looked down behind him and said a few words. A pale distraught face emerged from below the gunwale and Drustina shouted as she hauled the boy into view..

“Do you know this young rag-a-muffin?”

Dalcimon released a screech of joy and cried out the boy’s name.

“Andrar!”

“Mum!”

Drustina glanced over her shoulder and grinned at Urthos and Carl.

“Reckon they were telling the truth then gentlemen. Let the lad go to his mother.”

In a flash it seemed to Drustina that the boy was already in his mother’s arms and relating his father’s end.

“They killed Dad! He fought to the last but they just skewered him. He didn’t stand a chance.”

Dalcimon’s eyes filled with tears. Tears for her son now returned from the dead, and tears for her lost husband now confirmed as dead.

Drustina was now pre-occupied with other issues and she beckoned to Carl and Urthos.

“Join me on the Mermaid gentlemen; we need to discuss the spoils of war.”

Queen Dalcimon’s eyes widened as Drustina danced across the matrix of extended oars with the same agility and confidence as her two lieutenants. When she landed lightly on the deck the Frankish queen bowed then knelt before confirming.

“Then you are The Lioness ... sorry, Her Majesty the Lioness of Carthage. You are not a myth, a legend.”

Drustina laughed as loudly as her three lieutenants Eric, Carl and Urthos as she replied.

“Do I look like a legend? Get off your knees lady. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”

So saying Drustina reached down and hauled Dalcimon upright as she motioned her lieutenants to join her and Dalcimon in the little bow cuddy.

“We need to determine what’s afoot in the Estuary lands . Who rules where and what.”

~~ooo000ooo~~